


The Fall

by Majinie



Series: Sold to the Devil [6]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bonus chapter!, Jotun!Loki, Lemme capitalize that, Loki Feels, Loki POV, M/M, Sold to the Devil, The shitty twincesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5312069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's POV of chapters 18 and 19 of Sold to the Devil: The coronation, Anthony's abduction and the discovery of his heritage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I am SO sorry for skipping out on last week's update. Real life wouldn't let me.  
> Then, I am sorry for the loads of feels in this one, but you didn't expect Loki to do all that with a smile and sassy comments, did you?

“Frost Giants,” Odin breathed darkly and Loki shuddered slightly. It was happening. It was actually happening. Immediately, his eyes scanned the crowd for Freyr and Freyja, but among the moving crowd, he couldn't spot them, especially when his father's declaration caused the guests to scatter in panic, running into all directions at once. What unsettled him more was that he didn't feel the twins' energy signatures, either, but now was not the time to think about that.

 

By the time that he, Odin and Thor arrived at the vaults, the Jotun had been burned by the Destroyer's fire. They were just in time to see the metal creature retreat back into its place. Loki had to suppress a smirk at how wonderfully all of this was going. As if he would let the Jotun do any severe damage. No, they had done what he had meant them to do – interrupted the ceremony, which solved two of his problems at once: Thor wasn't going to ruin Asgard with his idiotic idea of leadership and his contract with Freyja was not fulfilled, meaning that Anthony was out of harm's way.

 

“They must pay for what they've done,” Thor demanded while they were advancing towards the casket that sat safely on its socket. Loki followed, carefully sidestepping the body of a guard. He had thought about a way to reduce collateral damage, but there had been none that wouldn't have been suspicious. There were some things he would just have to live with.

 

“They have paid,” Odin responded calmly. “With their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the casket is safe, and all is well.”

 

“All is well?” Thor repeated incredulously. Loki was secretly thankful for his acting skills as he watched the scene unfold. This had been for a greater purpose, yes, but that didn't mean he could not enjoy watching his schemes come to life. Mischief was what he lived for. “They broke into the weapons vault. If the Frost Giants had stolen even _one_ of these relics...”

  
“They didn't,” their father interrupted just as calmly as before, his gaze fixed on the casket.

 

“And I want to know why!”

 

Loki glanced back and forth between the two, his eyebrows raised. Didn't Thor see that this was pointless? _Of course he does not_ , he reminded himself, _that is why he is not fit to be king. Although I do have to give him credit for the fact that he does not demand war, but asks for reasons._

 

“I have a truce with Laufey, king of the Jotun,” Odin replied.

 

“He just broke your truce!” Just a bit louder and the thunder god would be shouting. “They know you are vulnerable.”

 

“What action would you take?” the All-Father asked patiently, turning around to face his elder son.

 

Without a beat of hesitation, Thor responded: “March into Jotunheim as you once did.”  _And here we_ go. “Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they will never dare to cross our borders again!”

 

“You're thinking only as a warrior.”

 

_And yet you saw him more fit to become king than me?_ , Loki thought while he listened to the argument. Odin was a wise king and had the patience and finesse that Thor lacked as a leader, but still, he couldn't see that his elder son was simply  _not ready_ for something as heavy and important as a throne. Loki didn't understand how their father could be oblivious to something like that.

 

Without saying one word throughout the whole thing, he watched them trade yells back and forth, he himself growing more and more impatient by the second because they had been down here for a while now and he still had to check on Anthony, until Odin finally ended the discussion with telling Thor that he had no right to decide anything about the actions to be taken because he was not king,  _not yet_ . 

 

Thor watched their father storming out of the vault, his hand clenching around Mjölnir, and Loki suppressed a sigh. As neutrally as he managed, he asked: “Well then, shall we?” The thunder god just grunted something unintelligible in response and stomped off. Loki rolled his eyes as soon as his brother's back was turned towards him, but he still followed the blond god. Thor's rage was obvious in the trembling of his hands and the tense line of his shoulders. Loki decided to accompany him to his friends so they could somehow distract him from his rage; then, he could look after Anthony without a bad conscience.

 

The elder god stormed into one of the smaller dining halls and, with a scream of fury, overthrew the table in the room's middle, food and drinks scattering over the floor.

 

“Now, what was that about wasting good wine,” Loki muttered to himself. He had wanted to stay in the background and just watch Thor until the Warriors Three found him, but now, he found himself slowly stepping out from the column he had been standing behind and sitting down next to Thor. _Damn it, I have better things to do than care about your temper tantrum!_

 

“It's unwise to be in my company right now, brother,” Thor growled as Loki lowered himself to the stairs next to him. “This was to be my day of triumph!”

 

_You are such a child,_ the mage thought with an internal eye-roll. He must have picked that habit up from Anthony. Quietly, soothingly, he said: “It will come. In time.”

 

“What's this?!” Volstagg's voice cut through the silence. Finally. Somebody else to have an eye on Thor.

 

“If it's any consolation,” Loki murmured to Thor, intending to initiate his parting words, “I think you are right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything.” The lie couldn't be any more obvious, but it fell smoothly from his lips and was exactly what Thor wanted to hear at the moment, so he knew his brother wouldn't doubt a word he said. “If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defences once, who is to say they won't try again? Next time with an army.”  
  
“Exactly!”, Thor agreed almost feverishly and it took Loki quite some self-control to suppress his laugh at how easy his bait had been taken.

 

Still, he worked to put a damper on Thor's building fit of righteous fury: “There's nothing you can do without defying father.” Suddenly, Thor was quiet, staring at Loki as something formed in his eyes. “No,” the younger prince said, raising his index finger. “No, no, no, no, no, I know that look.”

 

“It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders!”, the blond said, voice rising and full of determination as he rose from his place.

 

“Thor, it's _madness_ ,” he tried again. _I have better things to do than babysitting you, you dumb oaf!_

 

“Madness?” Volstagg asked from the other end of the room, where he had been stacking piles of food over one another. _Great_. “What sort of madness?”

 

“We are going to Jotunheim,” Thor declared, his voice devoid of any mirth or an indication that he was joking. Loki took a deep breath. This was not how he had planned this conversation to go.

 

There was an incredulous laugh from Fandral and the swordsman asked: “What? This isn't like a journey to _Earth,_ where you summon a little lightning and thunder and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim!” The last words were more of a hiss than anything else, as if he feared that speaking its name out loud would summon the Jotnar back to Asgard.

 

_Listen to him_ , Loki pleaded mutely.  _Just once in your life, listen._

 

“My father fought his way into Jotunheim! Defeated their armies and took their Casket!” The younger prince dropped his head into his palm and sighed quietly. “We would just be looking for answers!”  
  
“It is forbidden!” Sif snapped.

 

And Thor? Thor  _laughed_ . Walking towards his companions, he demanded: “My friends, have you forgotten all that we have done together?”  _No, Thor, they are thinking and you refuse to do the same!_ “Fandral! Who brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all of Yggdrasil?”

 

Closing his eyes with a defeated smile, the swordsman responded: “Well, you helped. A little.”  _Not you too!_ , Loki thought desperately.  _You, all of you, are supposed to look out for him and not grant him his every wish!_ Fandral met his eyes with a look that could be called apologetic. Loki gritted his teeth and looked towards Hogun, whom Thor was approaching next. He was the one who didn't talk much, but thought more than the others.  _Be the voice of reason when I couldn't._

 

“And who led you into the most glorious of battles?” Thor demanded.

 

With the hint of a smile, Hogun admitted: “You did.”

 

Loki wanted to beat his head against the column. Several times, possibly.

 

“And who brought you delicacies so succulent that you thought you had died and gone to Valhalla?” Thor continued, clapping a hand onto Volstagg's shoulder. Now, Loki hadn't held out any hopes for that one, and the “you did” that the oaf answered didn't surprise him in the slightest.

 

Thor laughed, turned towards Sif and demanded: “And who proved wrong all those who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors this realm has ever known?”

 

“I did,” she replied without one second of hesitation. _Please, Sif, at least you. Stop him_.

 

The thunder god opened his mouth, closed it again and then replied: “True, but I supported you.” He stepped up onto the golden stairs surrounding the dining hall. “My friends, trust me now! We must do this. You are not going to let me and my brother take all the glory, are you?”

 

Loki's eyes snapped up in surprise and, before he could stop himself, he heard a quiet “What?” escaping his lips. He could practically hear Thor deflating behind him.

 

“You- you are coming with me, aren't you?” his elder brother asked, much quieter than before.

 

The mage swallowed. Since the news had reached them that Thor was going to b king, the prince had done nothing but rub it in his younger brother's face, gloating in his triumph without sparing a thought to how it affected those around him. Now, that he was asking Loki to go with him (no,  _assuming_ that Loki was going to come with him), he was torn between giving in and, for once, enjoy Thor's attention, or look after Anthony.

 

It took him all of two seconds to decide.

 

“I can't,” he replied.

 

“You can't?” Thor repeated. “What do you mean, you can't?”

 

“I mean what I said. I have things to do, Thor, and those are more important things than aiding you in getting your will,” he responded calmly.

 

“Is it that?” the elder prince demanded, his voice rising again. “Are you scared? Sif is more of a man than you, coward!”

 

Oh, would you look at that. All the brotherly feelings gone in the blink of an eye.

 

“I am not scared, Thor, but other than you and your idiotic friends, I do not refuse to use my brain!” Loki snapped, rising to stand before Thor. “What you are doing is not only against the law, but also plainly suicidal. The only sensible thing to do would be stopping you, but since I doubt that you are actually listening to a word I say, I am not even going to _try_ that. No, go, go to Jotunheim if that makes you happy, but don't call me a coward when I am trying to protect you, you stupid oaf! Do what you want, but do _not_ expect me to come after you and save you when you mess up.”

 

Without waiting for a response (arguing with Thor was pointless, he had learned that long ago), he spun on his heel and jumped down the steps to leave the hall. When he passed him, Fandral stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 

“Loki...”, he began, but the prince whirled around and hissed: “The same goes for you. You are a grown man, you don't have to follow Thor's every whim. If you choose to do so, then do not come to me to complain afterwards. You have your own mind, Fandral, use it or don't, but don't you dare blame me afterwards!” With that, he yanked his arm free and headed towards the throne room. No-one stopped him this time.

 

_Anthony, the things I do for you_ , he thought drily to himself. His little speech had probably contained the most honest words he had said to Thor in years and for the first time in what felt forever, he hadn't done what he had just accused Fandral of – followed his brother's every whim, equally wanting to protect him and gain the elder god's respect. But he wouldn't let Thor's stupid impulsiveness keep him from making sure that Anthony was alright. He had wasted too much time already when he had listened first to the argument between Thor and Odin and then and then discussed with his sibling himself. 

 

He reached the throne room and skipped the main entrance in order to reach the smaller, less conspicuous one to the antechamber. The closer he got, the more distressed he was – he could neither sense Anthony's energy nor that of the reactor. Of course, there was the possibility that the mortal had already returned to his chambers and the energy was obstructed by the masses of spells and stray magic in Asgard's palace, but even then, he should be able to catch that particular, unusual energy signature.

 

_She didn't dare_ , he thought to himself, a hand curled into a fist by his side while the other one pushed the door open. Slowly, he stepped into the room, glancing around for any traces of his mortal. There were traces of magic in the air, easy find for those who knew how to look for them and Loki felt anger rise in him when he recognized the tingle of Freyja's magic. 

 

He had thought about this possibility, of course. He had thought about pretty much every possible outcome of this – but still, he hadn't expected Freyja to  _actually_ break their deal. She had to know that she was an outcast in Asgard after an action like this one and it had seemed unlikely to him that her petty revenge should mean this much to her. He hadn't expected this and Anthony paid the price for Loki's thoughtlessness.

 

The mage stopped in his tracks when he spotted the pale chalk circle on the floor. Despite the mixture of fury and bad conscience inside of him, he huffed a laugh as his eyes flickered over the runes in and around the circle. Either Freyja was more sly than he gave her credit for and this was a trap supposed to lure him in or she really was stupid enough to leave a rune circle that practically functioned as a map. He strongly suspected the latter.

 

“People keep asking me why I fool and trick others,” he muttered, “but honestly, how can I do anything but if they make it so easy?” With the aid of the runes and the remnants of Freyja's magic in the air, it took him less than a minute to find out where they had gone. “You are not even trying now, are you?” he demanded at the empty room, feeling more than just a bit insulted. This was so easy that it was ridiculous. Who did she think he was?

 

Refusing to use the same clumsy teleportation spell as Freyja, he closed his eyes and focussed on finding the pathway that she had used. Moving between realms was much more complicated than simply jumping from one place to another in one world, but since the goddess had left a trail that was hard to miss, he didn't have to search for a pathway first.

 

Teleportation was a bit like wandering through a forest: Once somebody had created a path by trampling vegetation and resistance down as roughly as Freyja had done, it stayed for a while, making it much easier to use the way for anyone following before the fabric of reality righted itself again.

 

When Loki opened his eyes again, he found himself in a pathway that undoubtedly belonged to Vanaheim's palace.  _It's almost painful how stupid she is._ As soon as he reached out with his mind, he felt the reactor's energy, soothing and lively at the same time. Right next to it, though, was Freyja, and somewhere near he could sense Freyr's magic, stronger than that of his sister. She had probably used up quite a bit of her reserves for the teleportation.

 

He considered just teleporting into the room where Freyja and Anthony were, but he had no idea what would expect him there. He would not be reckless like that and risk walking straight into a trap; he wasn't Thor, after all.

 

Instead, he cast a simple invisibility spell so he wouldn't have to bother with the guards and settled for a fast pace, almost but not quite running through the hallways into the more luxurious parts of the palace. Luckily, most of the nobles were in Asgard now and even those who weren't had no permission to enter this part of Vanaheim, since he already seemed to be in the wing that was dedicated to Freyja and Freyr. Still, the way took him longer than he had anticipated and with every step, he had to work harder to suppress the anxiousness that churned inside of him at the thought of what he might find, but he wouldn't lose his composure, not here. Not now.

 

Suddenly, as he was turning a corner with hurried steps, the energy from the reactor flickered and scattered until he wasn't able to feel it anymore. It made him freeze dead in his tracks for a moment, motionless with the shock of what must just have happened.

 

_ There is a logical explanation for this _ , he told himself, taking a deep breath.  _ She wouldn't dare to kill him. She wouldn't. _

 

Even faster than before, he ran through the corridors until he felt Freyja's energy at the end of a hallway. Without slowing down, he burst through the door at the end of it and immediately spotted Freyja, who whirled around at the sound of the opening door, recoiling as she saw him. After a second, she caught herself and snarled: “How did you get in here?”

 

She was blocking his view on the armchair behind her, but he could make out Anthony's black boots and a hint of leather trousers, could hear the mortal's laboured breathing. He was alive, and that was all that counted right now.

 

Aiming for mockery while he began to walk along the wall to get a clear view on Anthony, he responded: “ _ Somebody _ left their chalk circle on the floor.” Lowering his voice with a disdainful head-shake, he added: “Amateurs.” Freyja's eyes followed his every movement carefully as he continued: “Now, I believe you have broken...”  _ a deal _ , he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat when he caught sight of Anthony.

 

The mortal was sickly pale, which made the colour of the blood running down from his nose and forehead seem even more vibrant. A leather stripe had been forced between his lips, functioning as a gag, he wore shackles that definitely weren't the ones he had crafted himself, and the dark green tunic he wore was tattered and hung open to show his scarred chest – and the crushed remnants of the arc reactor, hanging down by a single cable from its casing.

 

“How _dare_ you,” he hissed, the words coming out from between gritted teeth. Without thinking about it, he stepped forwards to reach Anthony, but right in front of his eyes, Freyja pulled the man up by his hair, yanking him towards her. Loki noticed that Anthony winced as soon as he put weight on his right ankle and tried to avoid stepping on it as far as possible. 

 

He watched, frozen in place, as she pressed a blade to the mortal's,  _ his _ mortal's throat, making him go stock still. They had been there before – the last time, he had tricked her with a clone, but there was no guarantee that that would work again, and he wasn't willing to try it on the risk of Anthony's life. Anthony, whose large brown eyes were fixed on Loki, frightened yet trusting that the prince was going to find a way out of this.

 

Freyja, audacious as she was, spoke up: “I want you to...”

 

Loki had neither the time nor the patience to deal with her ridiculous antics. “I know what you want, Freyja,” he interrupted, a feeling of rage inside of him that made him want to strangle somebody. Unconsciously, his fist tightened around an imaginary throat, tiny sparks of magic dancing around it, ready to strike. Through gritted teeth, he vowed: “ But I give you a promise, and you can expect me to keep this one: Should he not stand next to me in the next thirty seconds, you are not going to leave this room other than in a coffin.”

 

He watched her eyes going wide for a moment, but her grip on Anthony didn't relent as she uncertainly responded: “I am a member of the Council, you cannot...”

 

_ For Norns' sake, does she really not get it?! _ “You know that I can,” Loki cut her off, voice rising slightly. Why did she even try to reason with him? Even a moronic spoilt princess like her should understand that she stood no chance. “Stop speaking, I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.  _ Hand. Him. Over. _ ”

 

The door opened behind him. Even before the man spoke up, Loki knew that Freyr had joined them: “I seem to have missed something. When did we grant him access to the palace?”

 

The prince didn't even deign him with a glance. He kept his eyes fixed on Freyja, watching as she grew more and more intimidated while he snarled: “When you morons failed to clean up behind you. Now, quit playing games, or there will be two Vanir funerals tonight.”

 

Once again, Freyja began: “You wouldn't dare...”

 

Loki snapped. There were stupid people, he had long since accepted that, but no-one could honestly be this dense! “I would and you know it!” he yelled, louder than he had intended to.

 

“Leave it, sister mine,” Freyr now chimed in. Loki was almost tempted to thank him for shutting his annoying sibling up. Well, maybe not killing him was enough of a show of gratitude.

 

“What are you doing?”, Freyja demanded, a betrayed look on her face.

 

“Can't you see he is not in the mood for your games!” her brother shot back, approaching the goddess with hurried steps. Apparently, the stupidity didn't run in the family. “He shall get his beloved slave back if he longs for him so much.” There was disdain in his voice, sure, but Loki was known to spew venom when he was in foul moods, and at least, Freyr put an end to his sister's shenanigans. With the last few words, the Vanir god had come close enough to Anthony and Freyja to block Loki's view on them.

 

He only noticed that something was wrong when he heard a startled sound from Anthony and saw Freyr pull back his hand, his white sleeves sprinkled with bright red stains. For a terrifyingly long second, Loki was frozen in place, his eyes widening in shock as Freyr brought the dagger forward again. The horrible sound jolted him out of his frozen stance and he surged forward, a choked cry on his lips. He reached the Vanir in four large steps, fast but not fast enough to prevent him from thrusting the blade forward a third time.

 

Loki grasped a fistful of Freyr's hair and pulled him backwards while the other hand twisted his wrist until he let go of the dagger, which fell to the floor with a clattering noise. Then, he yanked him backwards and let go. He heard a crash as the Vanir fell onto the low table behind him, leaving a few strands of white hair in Loki's fist.

 

When he turned his attention to Freyja, the goddess let go of Anthony. Without her holding him up, the mortal's knees gave in and he slumped forward, but Loki caught him with his arms around his torso before he could hit the ground. Anthony's hands were scrambling for purchase on his leather armour and Loki felt equal amounts of searing-hot fury and anxious worry that made his hands tremble.

 

“I swear to the Norns,” he promised lowly and through gritted teeth, “if he dies, both of you will, and I will make sure that they find you in bed together!” He didn't pay attention to whether he got a response, he lowered himself and Anthony to the floor. He couldn't risk teleporting them before making sure that the wounded genius wouldn't lose consciousness during it. “Anthony, can you hear me?” he asked in a quiet murmur. The twins were fleeing the room, Freyr urging his sister on, but Loki really couldn't care less. “Stay awake, stay with me, Anthony,” he pleaded. _Don't leave me now, don't make this my fault!_

 

Anthony's eyes had fallen shut and his breath came in laboured, pained gasps around the gag. With one slightly unsteady hand, he worked on untying it while the other one held the inventor halfway upright. He was frighteningly pale already and his breaths grew more shallow with every second as his head rolled limply to the side.

 

“I'm sorry, but I need you awake,” Loki whispered before he pulled his hand back and slapped Anthony's cheek forcefully. The inventor jerked upright with a gasp, his dark eyes wide open and staring at Loki full of panic, confusion and pain. “Can you hear me?” Anthony shook his head with a pitiful whimper, but it clearly wasn't an answer to Loki's question. Finally, the prince managed to loosen the gag, pulled it out and tossed it to the side. With one hand, he took a hold of Anthony's jaw and made the mortal look at him. Forcing his voice to sound insistent and fierce, he ordered: “Do not close your eyes, focus on me. I need you to stay awake. Please, can you do that for me?”

 

The only answer he got was another head-shake and Anthony's eyelids were fluttering shut again, but Loki couldn't let that happen. Lowly, but stubbornly, he insisted: “I _need_ you. To stay. Awake. Do not close your eyes, do not _dare_ to close your eyes, stay awake for me. Focus on me, come on, _please_. I will teleport us now, and you have to stay conscious. Stay with me.”

 

Loki couldn't let Anthony die here. Not because he hadn't made the preparations for Freyja to break their deal. Because he had been too blind to see that she was willing to do anything to get her will. Because he had let Odin's and Thor's antics stop him from looking for his slave immediately. He would never forgive himself if the mortal died because of his failings.

 

Determinedly, he began to weave a spell that would slow down the bleeding. Why had he never bothered to learn proper healing magic?

 

_Because destruction suits you so much better_ , a whispering voice in the back of his mind answered.  _Chaos and destruction are what comes easy to you. Just think of Angrboda._

 

He forced these thoughts away when he saw Anthony clenching his jaw and grimace in pain as he took a breath and rasped: “Fre...?”

 

“Gone,” Loki cut him off to spare the mortal the effort of speaking. “Both of them. They're not important now. I swear, you will never have to see them again, love.”

 

He pulled Anthony a bit tighter towards him and closed his eyes to concentrate on the energy-draining teleportation spell. In here, he couldn't call for the Bifröst, and he didn't have the time to get Anthony out of the building. It would have to work like this. With deep breaths and the feeling of a weak, fluttering heart under his hand, Loki forced the fabric of space to make way for him. Partly, he was still able to use the way Freyja had created – maybe he would make her death less painful for that.

 

Still, he almost collapsed over Anthony's trembling body when they arrived at the healing rooms. He wheezed, crouched over the inventor and trying to regain his bearings. Using that much magic at once was nearly painful.

 

He took a deep breath and straightened himself to look down at Anthony. The man's breathing had gone shallow again and his eyes were closed, his body limp. “Anthony?” Loki asked quietly. He got no response. “Oh, don't you dare,” he snapped in an almost scolding tone, “I will not let you go like this.” Raising his voice, he shouted: “ _Eir_! Eir, anybody, I don't care, I need somebody in here!” Why was nobody in the damn healing rooms?

 

Finally, he heard the sound of hasty steps out in the hallway before the door burst open. Laying Anthony down on a mattress, he glanced up and ordered harshly: “I need Eir in here this instant.” The servant boy stared at him and then at Anthony's bloodied body with wide, confused eyes.

 

“Y-your Highness?” he asked. “How did you...”

 

“Didn't you hear me?” Loki snapped aggressively. “There is no time for your ridiculous babbling, get her into this room, _now_!”

 

“Yes, yes of course,” the boy stammered and scurried away down the corridor, leaving Loki to keep Anthony awake.

 

Helplessly, he stared down at the mortal in his arms – yes, mortal, _so very mortal_ , with the bright red of his blood staining the mattress underneath him, his ragged breaths and the tanned skin that grew paler with every weak heartbeat under Loki's hands.

 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door was finally opened again and Eir came rushing in, the nervous boy from before in tow. It took her one glance at Anthony to start giving the boy orders, without questioning, without stalling. Loki had never been so grateful for that before.

 

“What happened?” she demanded after she had told her assistant to fetch water, a cloth and other things that Loki didn't really listen to.

 

“He got stabbed,” the prince answered, trying to sound calm and probably failing. “Three... three times. And that was when I got to him, I am not sure what happened before,” he added, glancing at Anthony's bloodied nose and forehead and the reactor.

 

_The reactor._ There was no use stopping the bleeding if he was going to be killed by metal shards. 

 

“He needs a new reactor,” Loki felt himself saying, knowing that Eir wouldn't understand what the device was. She had wetted a cloth and started to wipe the blood from Anthony's skin with fast, practised movements. “He can't survive like this, he needs it, I need to fetch it, it shan't take more than fifteen seconds to...”

 

“Just go, Loki, go!” she interrupted his increasingly frantic ramble, pulling Anthony from Loki's lap onto the mattress. The mortal's head rolled to the side and he didn't offer any kind of resistance or reaction, making the heavy feeling of fear inside of Loki grow colder and even more distinct.

 

“But you need to take care of him,” he pleaded, eyes locked on Anthony's unmoving frame, “he...” _He's only mortal and this is my fault. If I can't save him..._

 

“I know what I am doing, will you get it now or won't you?”, Eir snapped at him. Taking a deep breath, Loki nodded and focussed on another teleportation. It brought him to the laboratory and he immediately felt the energy of the old reactor, less... lively than the other, somehow heavier. Maybe that what just his negative association with it though.

 

He spun around until he spotted the blue glow of it, sitting exactly where he had carefully placed it on a shelf after his argument with Odin back then. With two hurried steps, he stood before it and closed his hand around the cold casing before he ported himself back to the healing rooms.

 

Eir was kneeling beside Anthony, her hands coated in blood, and pressed a cloth drenched in salve over the wounds. Loki immediately joined her, sitting down next to the mortal's head so he could reach his chest without hindering her in her work.

 

Gingerly, he took the cable in hand and lifted the broken reactor while he set the other one down beside him. A relieved breath escaped him when he saw that the cable and the... port, Anthony had called it, were still intact. He would just need to unplug the crushed reactor and connect the wire with the new one, right?

 

“Do you need help with that?” Eir demanded with a nod of the head towards the reactor, obviously meaning to get him out of his stupor.

 

Loki pulled himself together. “I'm fine,” he answered, “it should work just like that...” With a forceful tug, he separated the crushed reactor from the cable and tossed it to the side carelessly. “Yes, it will do now, we will craft a new one later, but he needs this for the time being...”

 

Then, he turned to pick up the palladium-powered one, but jerked back around when he heard the sudden shout from Anthony. The mortal's body convulsed and arched off the mattress and for a moment, his eyes were open, unseeingly staring at the ceiling, before Loki managed to get a hold on the cable again.

 

“I am so sorry,” he rushed out as if Anthony could hear him, “the cable, it touched...”

 

“Don't speak, finish it, for Norns' sake, Loki!” Eir snapped at him.

 

Loki flinched and nodded, holding on to the cable as he reached for the reactor behind him. Carefully, he connected the wire with the reactor and exhaled a sigh of relief when he heard the quiet _click_ which told him that the connection was successfully made. He lowered the reactor to its housing and fitted it in, twisting it until it fell into the right position with another clicking sound.

 

“Alright,” he breathed, glancing at Anthony's pale face. His eyes had fallen shut again, but he didn't look as lifeless as before; the lines of his face were tense, his brows drawn together in a tight frown and his jaw clenched. “What now?”

 

“Does this thing do anything to stop the bleeding or speed up his healing process?” Eir demanded while she pressed more cloths onto the wounds. The prince shook his head mutely and she looked down at her blood-stained hands before glancing back up at him, implication heavy in her gaze. “I do not believe that his body can take the blood loss,” she said carefully. “I have never treated a mortal before, but his wounds aren't closing. At this rate...”

 

“No,” Loki interrupted, “ _no_.” He grasped Anthony's hand tightly and glared down at the mortal. “I know that somewhere, you can hear me, and I _dare_ you to die on me. I dare you!” he hissed and then looked around the room until he spotted the servant whom Eir had brought with her, standing by and waiting for orders. “You,” he said sharply.

 

“Y-yes?” the boy stammered, drawing himself up straighter.

 

“Go and fetch me an apple,” Loki ordered, voice clipped and tight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eir pause in her movements to stare at him, but he didn't take his eyes off the boy. “Well?”

 

“An apple?” the servant asked uncertainly. “You mean... one of...”

 

“Of course I mean one of Idunn's apples, you moron, or do you think I am ordering breakfast now?” the mage interrupted impatiently. “Go!”

 

“But,” the kid objected, gesticulating towards Anthony, “he is a mortal.”

 

“Congratulations,” Loki drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words, “you have figured out the problem.” Then, his voice rising to an almost-yell, he snapped: “Now, I gave you an order and I suggest you follow it, because if you do not obey now, I shall have you flayed alive by tomorrow!”

 

The servant visibly paled and ran out of the room. Loki exhaled a breath when he heard a raspy voice from underneath him: “Flay?” Anthony was staring at him with wide eyes, even brighter through the whiteness of his skin.

 

“He's awake,” the prince informed Eir unnecessarily and then crouched over his mortal. “Anthony, can you look at me?”

 

Anthony's features twisted in pain and Loki saw him clenching his fists around the bedsheet as he replied weakly: “God no.” He shook his head with a whimper when Eir applied more pressure to the wounds and begged weakly: “Just lemme sleep again, _please_ , I don't...”

 

Loki shook his head and put a hand to Anthony's neck, pulling him upright and ignoring the weak sounds of protest as he insisted: “No, stay awake. You need to be awake, love, just for some more minutes. You can rest afterwards, as long as you wish, I promise. Just a little while longer.” He took a shuddering breath as he saw how the mortal forced his tear-clouded eyes open, first focussing them on Loki, then on the room around him. His breath came in gasps, too shallow and fast to be healthy, but at least he was breathing, right?

 

A hitching sob tore itself from the mortal's throat when he saw Eir reaching for him and he clung to Loki like a lifeline, face hidden in the leather of his armour. The prince wanted to do nothing more than hold him tight and tell him that everything would be alright, but for once, he was afraid that it might be a lie. Instead, he ran a hand through Anthony's hair soothingly and breathed: “You will be fine, love, I promise. But you have to stay awake for a little bit longer.” He felt the man's weak nod more than he saw it and kept murmuring to him softly, hoping that it would keep him alert.

 

When the servant entered the room some minutes later, Loki was crouched over Anthony and had begun to whisper quiet pleas for him to stay awake. They didn't reach the mortal, who had lost consciousness again a while ago and didn't wake up again since. If Eir noticed the prince's silent tears, she didn't comment on them.

 

He looked up when he heard the sound of the door and extended a hand as he demanded: “Give it to me.” The boy looked shell-shocked for a moment at seeing the usually so composed prince in a state like that, but he quickly recovered and handed the apple over to Loki.

 

With shaking hands, he pulled out a small dagger and broke the apple's smooth, golden skin with it, neatly parting it into eight small pieces. Then, he shuffled until he could pull Anthony up to lean with his back against Loki's chest. He frantically fought back the nagging thought that it was _too late, too slow, I can't do anything, it's my fault_ because he had to believe that it would all be alright. He had to.

 

“Help me,” he demanded at Eir, hating how desperate it sounded. She nodded and Loki held his mortal upright with one arm slung around his chest, the other hand tipping his head upwards so the healer could break one of the slices in two and push one part of it between Anthony's lips. Loki massaged the man's throat gently until he felt the swallowing reflex kick in, followed by a cough and weak struggling from Anthony. He pressed his hand over the inventor's mouth and held him a bit tighter when he felt him trying to spit the piece of apple out again. Only when he felt Anthony swallowing, he let go and whispered, attempting to sound calm and collected: “Shht, yes, just like that. Keep it down. A little more, love, a little more.” Slowly, the resistance died down.

 

It started right up again when Loki took the next piece, forced it between Anthony's lips and held the mortal's mouth shut again, even when he felt the weak head-shake and heard the choked-off sob from him, felt his powerless struggles.

 

“It's for the best, love,” he promised quietly. He wasn't sure how many of his words even registered in the man's delirious state, but he kept speaking anyway. “I need you to stay strong for me, can you do that? Come on.” He felt him swallow and reached for another slice of apple.

 

“Loki, please,” Anthony whimpered when his lips were free again, “stop it.”

 

“Soon,” Loki murmured. “A little more, just like that.” He pressed another slice between the mortal's lips and felt him actually chewing on it before he swallowed. “Good, yes,” he whispered, “you almost did it, love.”

 

After a while, Anthony's struggles ceased and he let himself be fed, slumping back into Loki's hold. The prince took it as a sign that he was accepting the treatment and not just lacking the power to resist any longer and he never stopped muttering encouragements and praises along every step of the way.

 

Anthony finished the whole apple and, apparently when he realized that nothing more was going to come, relaxed further and seemed to fall unconscious not even a minute later. This time, though, his breathing sounded more regular, and when Loki carefully ran a hand over the mortal's stomach, it came away slick with blood, but the wounds had superficially closed already with fresh, tender skin over them.

 

Slowly, the prince lowered Anthony to the mattress and brushed a sweaty strand of brown hair aside to press a lingering kiss to the mortal's forehead. Then, he straightened himself and rubbed a hand over his own face, hoping that he didn't smear blood and tears even more while he took some deep breaths. The panic began to finally dissipate and left him feeling hollow and exhausted.

 

“Alright,” he sighed after a moment. “Is there anything else we can do for now?”

 

“I don't think so,” Eir replied with a head-shake. “He needs to rest and obviously, he does not need any help falling asleep right now. I will clean him of the blood as thoroughly as now possible, and everything else will be done by his body itself.” She looked down at the golden apple's core and then at Loki. “You do realize that the All-Father will not take this kindly.”

 

“Anthony lives,” Loki responded. “Father rarely approves of my actions anyway, and if he decides to punish me, then it will be worth it.” Eir looked at him for a long moment, then nodded and ordered her servant to fetch fresh water and a cloth.

 

Suddenly, her words reminded him of something else that Odin wouldn't approve of. Thor and his stupid friends were still in Jotunheim, he wasn't sure for how long now, and he knew his brother's attitude good enough to be sure that they were in trouble by now.

 

Taking a breath and drawing himself up, he asked: “Can you handle him from here?” Eir gave him a deadpan look that dared him to ask such a silly question again and Loki nodded with a small smile. “Very well. I might have to rescue somebody else.”

 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”
> 
> His father (father?) was silent for agonizingly long seconds. Only when Loki came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase the All-Father was standing on, he replied with a quiet, hesitant “No”. Loki swallowed, waiting for him to continue. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring; abandoned, suffering, left to die... Laufey's son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, sorry that this took so long! I honestly didn't expect it to take so long, and especially not to get this long *sigh*. It's thirty pages now and it's just a damn special.  
> I decided to make another cut so I wouldn't have to make you wait even longer. Third part comes, hopefully, next week!

Before he teleported to the Bifröst, Loki stopped by at the palace gates to speak to one of the Royal Guards. With short, clipped words he told the man that he should inform Odin of Thor's trip to Jotunheim immediately, not leaving him the chance to reply before he vanished again and appeared in front of Heimdall.

 

The gatekeeper stood in front of the dome with a grim expression. He didn't flinch when Loki appeared in front of him and the young god cut off everything he might want to say as he spoke up: “Do you want to argue or will you let me pass so I can aid these fools? Because I would dare to bet with you that Thor has brought them into trouble.” Heimdall stared at him for a moment, his jaw set, before he stepped aside.

 

Loki entered and cast a look around before he asked: “You did not leave the bridge open for them?”

 

“It is not possible,” the gatekeeper responded. “Leaving it open for too long would unleash the Bifröst's power on Jotunheim without limitations, which would destroy the realm with all of you on it.” Loki nodded his understanding and stepped forward when Heimdall opened the Bifröst, feeling the familiar pull.

 

He was dropped off in an icy wasteland. The landscape was almost black, there was no sun and it looked barren. Empty. Dead.

 

Loki didn't feel the cold as he looked towards the horizon. _How could anyone ever overlook Thor_ , he thought drily as he saw the lightning illuminating the dark sky. Closing his eyes, he focussed on the next big energy source – Mjölnir – and once again cast a teleportation spell so he wouldn't have to walk all the way. It left him swaying slightly on his feet; he rarely used the spell this often in one day, especially not for travelling between realms like he had done to reach Anthony.

 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself and advanced towards the remnants of a castle from where he heard the tell-tale sounds of a battle. While walking, he conjured a dagger in each hand (an _infinite magical wardrobe_ , as Anthony had called it, had its perks after all), and, as soon as he was close enough, threw one of them so it buried itself in the neck of a Jotun towering behind Fandral. The beast collapsed and Fandral turned around, a grin spreading on his features when he spotted Loki.

 

The prince allowed himself a thin smile before throwing the second dagger. His accuracy, together with the enchantments placed on the weapons made them effective enough to kill the Giants with one hit, although the blades were small compared to those that his comrades used. _Ha, comrades._ The idiots he had set out to save, _again_ , because Thor wouldn't use his brain even if he got paid for it.

 

With another precisely aimed knife, he took out another Jotun and moved closer towards Thor. As soon as the distance was small enough, he yelled: “Thor, it's time to go!”

 

The blond god turned around, beaming as he spotted his brother. “Loki!” he shouted back.

 

Only because they were in battle did the mage not roll his eyes. Instead, he stabbed an approaching Giant and responded over the noise of the battle: “Who else would have come to get your moronic behind out of here?”

 

“I think you misunderstood, brother,” came Thor's reply. “I am in no need of saving.” As if to underline his words, he bashed another Jotun's skull in with his hammer.

 

“Of course not,” Loki muttered, but before he could reply anything aloud, Volstagg's voice echoed over the battlefield: “Do not let them touch you!” The prince turned and glanced at the warrior briefly. He was clutching his arm, which already looked like it had suffered from severe frostbite.

 

Stabbing another one of the Jotnar, Loki snapped: “Thor, don't you see what you are doing? You are endangering your friends, do you truly want this? Let us leave now, we have to!”

 

“Then you go!” Thor shot back, waving dismissively. _Blood-lusty moron._ “I will be following.”

 

The younger prince gritted his teeth. As much as he hated his behaviour, he wouldn't leave without his brother. For a few minutes, he silently fought alongside the others, trying to not let his weariness get the best of him.

 

It happened when he tried to kill another Jotun. Suddenly, the beast had its large hand closed around Loki's forearm, twisting it until he dropped his dagger, trying to pull away from the icy touch that – didn't hurt.

 

With wide eyes, the mage stared down at his arm, at the frost bending the metal of his armour until it fell away in small pieces. Panicking, Loki struggled against the hold of the Frost Giant, but his movements ceased when he watched the dark blue colour bleeding into his own skin, without pain, without frost burn, just with a rush of cold.

 

Everything seemed silent for a moment, the ice cold world standing still, and Loki slowly glanced up to meet the Jotun's blood red eyes, fixed on him with an intelligence, a look of understanding that should not be there. _No, no, no, no..._ Before the Giant had the chance to utter a word in its raspy voice, Loki conjured another enchanted dagger and rammed it into the beast's heart, making it stagger and fall backwards. As soon as its hand left his skin, the blue faded away into a pale white arm once more.

 

For a moment, he stared down at it, then looked around to see if anybody had noticed the... the... _event_. Whatever it had been. Something that Loki didn't want to think about – not here, not now, not surrounded by dozens of Jotnar. Nobody seemed to have noticed what had happened and he felt relief making his body lighter, when suddenly a scream that was no battle cry echoed over the wasteland.

 

He whirled around and felt the panic return with full force as he caught sight of Fandral, impaled by an array of ice spears. His blood was drawing red streaks and freezing over on them where a particularly long one protruded from his back. Without thinking, Loki grabbed a dagger from his belt and sent it on its way towards the Frost Giant that had attacked Fandral. _Not again. Not twice in a day, for Norns' sake!_ Before he could reach him, Hogun and Volstagg had pulled Fandral off of the spear, tearing another cry from the swordsman.

 

“Thor!” Sif yelled, followed by Loki's urgent “We _must go_!”  
  


 

“Then go!” the stubborn moron shouted back, and Loki gritted his teeth in frustration, torn between running to Fandral and trying to heal him with what little healing magic he possessed or dragging Thor bodily of the battlefield. Not that he would be any good at either of those.

 

The sound of ice breaking and the shaking ground made Loki look over at the rock formation behind them, spotting a Jotun taller than the others who gestured with his arm imperiously. A large crack formed from where he stood, running over the ground towards a wall – a statue? The mage took a step back when he saw that _no_ , that was not a statue, that was a _beast._ And it was obviously keen on tasting some Aesir flesh because as soon as its icy cage broke, it leaped into their direction.

 

With a last shout of “ _Thor!_ ”, Loki turned on his heel and broke into a run. He could simply have teleported away, but he had come here to save these morons and he would be damned if he just abandoned them now. He met Fandral's eyes; the swordsman was hoisted onto Volstagg's shoulders and watched the events unfold while fully conscious, yet uncharacteristically silent. Not that any remark from him would have been audible over the roar of the creature behind them.

 

Loki held his eyes while they all sprinted towards the Bifröst point. He would have gone back to save Thor, but he was more than confident that the blond oaf was surviving just fine on his own and probably having the time of his life during it. In case of emergencies, he still had Mjölnir to fly him out.

 

Some twisted, ugly part of Loki wished that he hadn't.

 

He shoved it into the back of his mind where it huddled up with jealousy, fear, and the image of his arm slowly turning blue that seemed to be burned into his retinas.

 

The deafening crash of the beast's tail hitting the ground tossed him fully back into the real world, where Sif surged forward to avoid getting pierced by the giant thorns on the tail's end.

 

Suddenly, there was a roar of thunder and Loki felt the ground shake underneath his feet as a bolt of lightning lit up the landscape. _Please tell me you didn't._ Without looking back, he could hear the ground breaking in behind them and sped his pace up even more. He would love to just grab Fandral and vanish from here, but no matter how much he disliked the others, he couldn't leave them here. Maybe they would learn the meaning of gratitude if he helped them out yet again – not that he actually held out any hopes for that.

 

Fandral's eyes were fixed on something behind Loki, doubtlessly the creature chasing after them. After his eyes grew wide for a moment, he laughed incredulously and the prince dared to glance over his shoulder, where the beast was... not. Not anymore. Apparently, it had fallen down into whatever nothingness lay beneath the ice that Thor's attack had cracked.

 

Anyway, they could not allow themselves to slow down. The ground was continuing to give in beneath their feet and they were jumping from isle to isle to avoid following the monster in its fall downwards.

 

“Heimdall!” Thor bellowed as soon as they were close to the point where the gatekeeper had opened the bridge, once for Thor and his friends and a second time for Loki. “Open the bridge!” The place was on the edge of a cliff, there was no way for them to go if Heimdall did not get them now, yet nothing happened. Loki glanced over at Fandral, whose breathing was more irregular and ragged than before. They couldn't afford to wait, why wasn't anything happening?

 

In the sudden silence, the crash of a giant paw on the ground was even more startling. The group flinched as one when the behemoth that they had thought to be rid off slowly pulled itself up the cliff's edge, swaying as it regained its balance before the dark eyes fixed on the group of Aesir in front of it. In a deafening roar, it bared fangs as long as Loki's arms and the mage took another tiny step back.

 

He couldn't die here. Not now, he had somebody to return to, he wouldn't let Anthony wake up surrounded by strangers. He couldn't.

 

Behind him, Thor took off from the ground using Mjölnir. Loki stared after him incredulously, but the beast straightening itself up, standing on two of its four massive legs, quickly caught his attention again. Together with the others, he retreated some more steps and cursed his exhaustion. He was sure that if his mind was working properly, he would have found a spell by now, but he couldn't possibly teleport all of them away, he simply lacked the strength for it right now.

 

Suddenly, the hiss of something fast moving through the air came from behind and in the next moment, a flash of red crossed Loki's vision before disappearing _in the monster's mouth_. Gaping, he stared at it as it tipped over and then fell to the side. Through its still opened mouth, the grey sky was visible and Thor landed on the ground before it with a heavy thud before it slid off the cliff and vanished into the valley beneath for good.

 

Thor turned around with a triumphant smile, but it faded as soon as his eyes focussed on what was behind his comrades. Loki turned and flinched when he took notice of literally _hundreds_ of Jotnar all around them. For a moment, everything seemed frozen in place before the Giants began to advance towards the small group of Aesir; they stopped in their tracks when golden light illuminated the intruders and the crackle of lightning echoed through the wasteland.

 

A blinding flash of light made Loki raise an arm in front of his face protectively. After the darkness of Jotunheim's wasteland, the Bifröst's light was all the more painful to look at. He heard Sleipnir before he caught sight of his son, but before he could utter any form of greeting (not that that would have been appropriate in the situation anyway), Thor shouted: “Father! We'll finish them together!”

 

Loki would have loved to beat his head against some stone wall, or, considering the current options, against an iced rock. Would that fool ever learn his lesson?

 

“Silence!” Odin hissed harshly and the blond god deflated visibly.

 

The Jotun's leader – Laufey was his name, if Loki remembered correctly – rose up to Odin on a quickly forming podest of ice. With a deep, rumbling voice, he greeted: “Allfather. You look weary.”

 

Truly, Odin was swaying in Sleipnir's saddle in a worrying manner, and his words were not half as imperious and impressive as Loki was used to when the old god answered, forgoing the taunt that the Jotun had begun their conversation with: “Laufey, end this now.”

 

“Your boy sought this out,” Laufey responded, his red eyes narrowing and darting to Thor, who still had the audacity to wear a sullen, almost challenging look.

 

“You're right,” Odin responded calmly. The gazes of the Warriors Three diverted from the Allfather to his son while Loki kept his eyes fixed on the white-haired man. “And these are the actions of a boy. Treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now, before there is further bloodshed.”

 

“We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather,” Laufey growled. His deep voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Loki's spine. “He'll get what he came for. War and death.”

 

“So be it.”

 

As if that had been some sort of permission, the Jotun leapt at Odin. The All-Father raised Gungnir and a gust of wind swept Laufey off his feet and caused him to topple over while the golden light of the Bifröst began to illuminate the scenery. Before another of the monsters could try their luck in reaching them, the whole group was sucked into the bright glow, the journey with the Bifröst even more unpleasant than usual because it had come so unexpectedly.

 

As soon as the Bifröst sent them all tumbling out into the dome, Thor demanded: “Why did you bring us back?!”

 

Loki resisted the urge to clamp the elder prince's mouth shut and drag him towards the palace. In his stead, Odin snapped: “Do you realize what you've done, what you've started?”

 

“I was protecting my home!” Thor shot back and Loki stepped away from him so he wouldn't stand between the two gods when their argument got into full swing.

 

“You cannot even protect your friends,” the All-Father responded venomously, practically ripped Heimdall's sword out of its socket and threw it at the gatekeeper, who lunged forward to catch it, “how can you hope to protect a kingdom?” Turning towards Hogun and Volstagg, who were staring up at him, frozen in place, he pointed a hand at Fandral between them and yelled: “Get him to the healing room, _now_!”

 

Loki watched worriedly as the two hurried towards the bridge. The blond swordsman was hanging between them limply, more being dragged than actively walking, and Loki had to tear his gaze away to stop himself from following them. Instead, he turned his attention back to Thor, who had been talking all the while: “There won't be a kingdom to protect if you're afraid to act! The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you.” Loki had to give himself credit for keeping his sigh as inaudible as it was.

 

“That's pride and vanity talking, not leadership,” Odin replied. “You've forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior's patience.” _He never learned about it in the first place, old man._

 

“While you wait and are patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us,” Thor said lowly, obviously straining to keep his voice down. Still, it rose over the comfortable level of speaking at the end of his sentence. “The old ways are done. You'd stand giving _speeches_ while Asgard falls!”

 

Suddenly, Odin erupted in a shout: “You are a vain, cruel, greedy boy!”

 

“And you are an old man and a fool!” Thor yelled back with clenched fists.

 

Loki suppressed his flinch, carefully looking from one of them to the other. They seemed to have forgotten about him and he watched as the All-Father bowed his head to look at the ground.

 

“Yes.” The word was almost inaudible. “I was a fool for thinking you were ready.”

 

The mage felt his eyes widen as he saw Odin's hand tightening around Gungnir. Taking a step forward, he began: “Father –“, but an inarticulate shout from Odin in his direction cut him off and he froze in his tracks.

 

Turning back towards Thor, their father continued, his voice rising with every word: “Thor Odinson. You have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity,” _oh, now you see it too, don't you,_ Loki thought bitterly, “you've opened these peaceful realms and lives to the horror and desolation of war!” He raised Gungnir to place it where Heimdall's sword had been before, lightning crackling around the spear, then he descended the steps towards Thor and reached for the thunderer's chest. “You are unworthy of these realms!” The golden plate over the blond god's chest went clattering to the floor. “You're unworthy of your title!” The crimson cape followed and Loki swallowed as he caught sight of his brother's wide, blue eyes, staring up at Odin in incredulity as the king yelled: “ _You're unworthy_ ,” he stilled momentarily and continued in a far quieter, much more dangerous tone, “of the loved ones you have betrayed.”

 

Taking an unsteady breath, Loki forced himself to stay still. He had wanted to stop Thor's coronation, yes, but this wasn't what he had planned. He had never wanted it to go as far as this – it had gone too far in the moment when his brother had set out to Jotunheim, when Anthony had fallen into Freyja's hands, when Fandral had been injured on this ridiculous suicide mission of Thor's. This had begun to escalate when he had told Thor that he was fully supportive of everything he did.

 

Odin's voice rang through the dome, rising over the whir of the Bifröst beginning to charge. “I now take from you your power!” Mjölnir came free from the prince's belt and flew into Odin's hand. “In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin All-Father,” Thor looked up in horror as understanding dawned in his eyes, “cast you out!”

 

With a blinding flash of gold, Thor vanished into the swirling colours of the opening portal. Only stern self-control kept Loki from leaping after him, as he was used to do when his brother was in danger. As he had always done. And now, it all was his fault.

 

“Whosoever holds this hammer,” Odin muttered against Mjölnir, holding her in both hands, “if he be worthy, he shall possess the power of Thor.” Then, he threw the weapon after Thor, the portal closing behind it. With a dry swallow, Loki tore his eyes away from it and turned towards Odin, half-expexting the All-Father to call him out on what he had done.

 

The king held his gaze for a few seconds before he asked, in a low, tired voice: “Don't you have someone to look after?”

 

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, Loki nodded hastily. “Yes. Yes of course, I do.”

 

Odin heaved a sigh and pulled Gungnir from the socket. In a murmur that sounded almost defeated, he stated: “At least one of my sons takes care of his loved ones.”

 

 _How ironic that the first kind words I receive from you in ages_ , the prince thought with a bitter smile, _come after Thor is gone._ Out loud, he said: “I should go look after them, then.” After a nod from the All-Father, Loki cast a simple teleportation spell, not caring for etiquette or a proper warrior's behaviour in front of the elder god, and let darkness consume him.

 

He found himself in front of the weapons vault, purely out of habit appearing behind one of the columns lining the hallway so it would not be too obvious that he had been using his magic to travel. After checking that there was no-one around but the guards in front of the vault, he stepped out of the shadows into the corridor to approach the huge double doors. If the two Einherjar guarding the entrance were surprised at his appearance, they didn't let it show as they stepped aside to let him in.

 

Loki took a moment while the heavy, metallic thud of the closing doors behind him echoed through the room, his eyes drawn towards the small, oh-so-inconspicuous casket at the far end of the chamber. Its energy emitted a strange pull, luring him closer and at the same time making him want to turn around and run until he didn't feel its presence anymore. He took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his fists before he slowly stepped towards the ancient relic, his footsteps echoing in the cold, empty room. Although every of the artefacts gave off its very own energy signature, none of them were as frighteningly tempting as the Casket of Ancient Winters. He had always blamed that on its power, but now, he had a different suspicion, one that made his hands shake when he finally stood in front of the socket and reached out for the casket.

 

As soon as his hands closed around its handles, he felt the same cold tingle of ice, but this time, it wasn't limited to just one arm, but seemed to spread until it froze his very spine. Only that the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant – not at all, actually. Perhaps that was what horrified Loki the most. This wasn't _bad_. It felt like it was freeing all his senses, like a blindfold was being pulled off that he had never realised he was wearing.

 

Especially his seidr flared up in a way that he had never felt before, with a sense of _freedom_ that was utterly overwhelming. A restriction was gone, the same one that had stopped the blue from covering his skin, kept the pale lines on it from rising, obscured the red of his eyes. As soon as the Aesir white faded, his magic was more alive than it had ever been before.

 

It _terrified_ him.

 

Still, he lifted the casket even higher, ready to let it have its full effect on his body and magic, when Odin's sharp voice rang out through the room: “ _Stop!_ ”

 

Loki froze in his movement, hands clenching even tighter as he asked, hating the waver in his voice: “Am I cursed?” _Please please let that be it, I can deal with a curse, I can_ lift _a curse..._

 

“No.” No. _No._

 

“What am I?” he demanded, his voice low, but anger starting to bubble up in his chest. If what he suspected was the truth – if it was anywhere _close_ to the truth – then he would have an answer. An answer to every question he had ever posed himself regarding Thor, Odin, the court. All of it.

 

_Please don't be the truth._

 

“You're my son.”

 

Carefully, Loki set the casket down on its socket, listening to the sound of it echoing from the walls and then turned around as he asked: “What more than that?”His voice sounded angry, seething, rather than terrified like he felt. Now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself, no matter how much he wanted to deny everything that had happened in the last few hours. Taking slow steps towards Odin, he continued: “The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

 

His father ( _father?_ ) was silent for agonizingly long seconds. Only when Loki came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase the All-Father was standing on, he replied with a quiet, hesitant “No”. Loki swallowed, waiting for him to continue. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring; abandoned, suffering, left to die... Laufey's son.”

 

Incredulously, Loki averted his eyes, staring towards a wall without really seeing the engravings on it. “Laufey's son,” he repeated flatly. He wanted to feel shocked. Scared. He wanted to feel hatred. Instead, now that he had actually heard the words from Odin, he felt empty. The only emotion clawing at him was a faint sense of disbelieving desperation.

 

“Yes,” Odin confirmed unnecessarily.

 

The mage finally looked up at him again, feeling the despair grow into something larger, deeper, more painful. But still, the foremost emotion was incredulity, because he would have expected anything, really, but _this_? This was a scale of things that he would never even have thought in. This was too much to process and file away for later. He had registered the truth of Odin's words, somewhere, he had, he had even had proof, after all, but nevertheless he was waiting for the moment when all of this was going to turn out in another way, as some sort of cruel joke or something.

 

“ _Why?_ ” he heard himself ask, his voice disgustingly unsteady. “You were knee-deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?” Jotnar. The ones he had been fighting not even an hour ago. Did he have to consider them _his people_ now?

 

No. No way. He was _nothing_ like these beasts. Nothing.

 

“You were an innocent child,” came Odin's hollow reply.

 

“No,” Loki responded, hands balling into fists. Finally, his other emotions returned to him; first and foremost, a cold sense of anger combined with a morbid urge to _know_. “You took me for a purpose. What was it?” His breathing was laboured and he blinked rapidly to force back tears – stupid, uncalled for, he was _angry_ and nothing else – while he waited for a reply that didn't come. Heaving a deep breath, he took a step forward and screamed: “ _Tell me!_ ”

 

“I thought,” the All-Father finally responded, “we could unite our kingdoms one day.” _What?_ “Bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace.” Oh, he was beginning to understand. “Through you.”

 

Loki's _what?_ was nothing more than a quiet breath; Odin had probably not even heard it.

 

“But those plans no longer matter.”

 

 _Yes. Yes of course they do. Now more so than ever before Thor's moronic tantrum._ The prince felt tears on his cheeks and couldn't bring himself to care as he, with his voice on the edge of breaking, stated: “So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me.”

 

“Why do you twist my words?” Odin interrupted exasperatedly.

 

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn't you?” For some reason, he still hoped he would get a reasonable explanation now. Something that would make everything alright again. Of course, it didn't come.

 

“You're my son,” his father ( _not-father_ ) said instead, quietly, solemnly. “I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

 

Loki swallowed around his tears and demanded: “What, because I- I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night?” Finally, he felt his rage bubbling up, pushing aside the morbid thirst to _know_ and everything else as he snarled bitterly over Odin's quiet _no, no_ : “You know, it all makes sense _now._ Why you favoured Thor, all these years!” With heavy, loud steps he climbed the staircase towards Odin, who had sunken onto one of the steps and was reaching out towards him. “Because no matter how much you _claim_ to _love me_ , you couldn't have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

 

Only when the All-Father's hand limply fell down onto the ground beside him did Loki realize what had happened and fell to his knees next to the unmoving body. Out of habit, he stretched his hands over Odin's chest, but then realized that this was something he could not heal, especially not with his magic in such a weakened state. He clenched trembling fingers around the old man's hand, then pulled them back to himself and yelled: “Guards! Guards, please, help!”

 

Not even a full second later, the gates opened and two gold-clad warriors hurried into the room. Loki stared at them, immediately wondering whether they had heard the conversation from before. Arguments between the king and his sons weren't unusual, but if they _knew_...

 

However, there was no sign of them having any idea of what had just transpired in the room. They barely took notice of Loki while they knelt down at the king's sides and lifted him up between them as gently as possible. Loki watched them leave, watched the vault's heavy gates swing shut behind them, and then sank down onto the steps.

 

With a heavy, shaky sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. The silence in the room was deafening; some part of him wanted to return to the Casket of Ancient Winters to feel that incredible feeling again, the freedom, the power, but at the same time, the thought of it repulsed him so much that he forced himself to get up and leave the vault. He couldn't directly teleport from there, since protective spells against exactly that were always in place, so he did it as soon as the doors closed behind him.

 

This time, he made his way to the outside of the medical wing. Before he entered, he leaned against the wall there and breathed in and out deeply several times, wiping the back of his hand over his face to erase every possible trace of his tears.

 

A minute later, he opened the door quietly. Anthony was the first one to catch his eye, laying on his back and breathing slowly; he was pale, but not as frighteningly white as before, and most of the bloodstains had been cleaned away from his face. There were still some blood-encrusted strands of hair and his chest and stomach beneath the blanket must still be a mess, but he looked better and that was the main focus of Loki's attention right now.

 

While stepping up to the mortal's – _no, not mortal, not anymore_ , he reminded himself – bed, he greeted Fandral with a small nod. The swordsman was propped up against his bed's headboard and the colour had returned to his cheeks.

 

“What happened?” he asked in a hushed voice. “I assume I must have missed something, judging by...” He made a vague gesture towards Loki and the mage briefly wondered if the tear stains were still visible. “...your appearance.” Curse Fandral for actually looking at him.

 

The prince swallowed and stared down at Anthony for another moment before he began to give Fandral a summary of what had happened. Quietly, he explained: “You missed quite a lot, I believe. After they brought you to the healing chambers, Thor started to ramble about having to wage war against Jotunheim to teach the Frost Giants to fear him. Naturally, fa- Odin didn't agree, and because both of them are more stubborn than a damn hoard of bilgesnipes, they couldn't just talk it out, but had an argument. Father...” He hesitated and swallowed again, not even noticing his slip-up. “...exiled him for his recklessness and insolence. To...”

 

“Wait,” Anthony's voice cut through the palpable tension in the air, right over Fandral's gasp, and Loki startled, turning towards the inventor. “Who exiled whom and whereto?” he demanded, his voice still slightly slurred from sleep.

 

The mage didn't bother to hide his relieved smile. “You are awake.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock,” came the dry reply. “Could you, by any chance, tell me why I am tied to the fucking bed?” Glaring up at Loki, Anthony tugged at the bonds beneath the blanket.

 

Loki hadn't even known they were there (although he should probably have noticed the unnaturally stiff and straight posture), but right now would probably be a bad moment to admit that he was not in full charge of what happened to Anthony in the medical wings. After all, his trust into Loki was a fragile thing already, and if he told him that he let other people tie him up...

 

“You were thrashing around,” he replied in a way of explanation while he knelt down next to the mattress and worked the leather straps open. “We needed you to stay still so you wouldn't restart the bleeding over and over again.” That was probably close enough to the truth right now. 

 

For Anthony, he began telling the events of the previous hours again, beginning right after he had brought the mortal to the medical wing. Retelling everything woke the feeling of unease that had just begun to settle, and he kept expecting one of the two men in the room to call him out on his heritage, to demand knowledge about which part of the story he had left out. In his nervous state, he didn't trust himself to weave a perfect lie, so he left the conversation in the vault out completely, didn't mention the All-Father falling into the Odinsleep. Fandral would find out sooner or later and Anthony couldn't care less about Asgardian politics anyway.

 

He tried to convince himself that he kept the location of Thor's banishment to himself because he wasn't entirely sure, not because he was afraid of how Anthony would react when he learned that the god was residing on Midgard now.

 

“...so we returned here together with Odin. All of that was, of course, after we finished treating you,” he finished. He couldn't have Anthony think that he _first_ went to Jotunheim and _then_ came to get him from Freyja's claws.

 

“We? Who's we?” the inventor asked curiously. Loki noticed that he hadn't moved since he had untied Anthony's first wrist, just kept fiddling with the leather straps between his fingers for the past few minutes. Hastily, he got up to walk around the bed to untie the second one as well.

 

“Me and Eir,” he replied. “She is the most capable healer in all of Asgard.” _Nothing but the best for you._

 

“I see,” Anthony murmured slowly. He sounded thoughtful, and when Loki glanced up, he saw the mortal's ( _not_ -mortal's) brown eyes staring at something that only he could see. “So you two... saved me.”

 

“Well, it was not entirely our skill that saved you,” Loki allowed and stood after he had freed the other's second wrist. With his and Eir's magic alone, they might as well have lost Anthony.

 

“No?” The inventor pulled the blanket back up and met Loki's eyes. The mixture of trust and nervousness in his gaze made the mage want to lean down and kiss him again, taste again what he had gotten earlier that day (had it really only been hours ago?) in the laboratory. “You had help, then?”

 

“That is one way of saying it,” Loki nodded and reached out, not giving in to his sudden urge to be _close_ to the smaller man (no weakness, not now, not in front of Fandral), but allowed himself to brush a few strands of brown hair away from Anthony's forehead. With a smile, he watched the smaller one's eyes fall shut.  “We used one of Idunn's apples, for even Eir's magic could not heal your wounds completely, what with your fragile mortal body...”

 

The mortal made a non-committal  _ah_ -noise and stayed still for a few seconds before he suddenly tensed and opened his eyes again with a startled “wait”. Abruptly, he sat up, causing Loki's hand to fall away from his unruly hair.  “ You used one of the apples? The- the golden apple things you told me about?” He looked startled,  _scared_ as he realized what he had just been told.

 

“Yes,” Loki nodded slowly. The mortal's shocked reaction was confusing and made him wonder if there was something he had missed during his absence.

 

“The things that make you immortal. _Those_ apples.” Anthony's voice was faint, as if he was having trouble getting the words to leave his lips.

 

Trying to sound calm and not as confused as he felt, Loki responded: “Those apples. Anthony, are you...”

 

“Alright?”, Anthony interrupted hysterically. _What in Hel's name is going on?_ “Alright? Do I look fucking alright to you?” Loki was about to respond, but the smaller man shook his head vehemently. “No, don't answer that, just don't. You used _Idunn's apples_ on me?!”

 

“I just said that, didn't I?” the mage demanded and was torn between rolling his eyes and seriously worrying about Anthony's condition. He _had_ been hit on the head, after all. He reached out to get Anthony to lay down again, but the inventor recoiled from his touch defensively. That hadn't happened in weeks.

 

“You didn't,“ Anthony murmured, and then, louder: “You didn't. You- you didn't feed me one of these damn things, you didn't just... just _make me immortal_ , like that's your call to make, you can't just decide that sort of thing!”

 

Oh. So  _that_ was what this was about. Loki resisted the urge to laugh and just raised his eyebrows as he responded: “Are you really reproaching me for saving your life? What should I have done?” It came out sharper than he intended and he clenched his fists at his sides to keep himself from pushing Anthony back onto the mattress and telling him to sleep until his head was clear again.

 

“I don't know, maybe fucking _ask_ me or something!” came the yelled reply, and now it was just plainly ridiculous.

 

“You were hardly in a position to answer questions,” Loki snapped. 

 

“Well, you could have waited 'till I was!”

 

_ Come on, Anthony, you are smarter than that, aren't you?  _ “I could  _ not, _ you fool, you were bleeding out!” His voice was rising in volume now, too, in response to Anthony's loud, angry accusations.

 

“So that gave you the right to decide that I'm not gonna live seventy or eighty, but _thousands_ of years? And that wasn't worth asking?” The mortal's, no, _im_ mortal's fingers were clenched around the blanket and he was paler than before, his hands shaking, his shoulders tensed. 

 

Loki wanted to grab and shake him,  _don't you see I did this for you?_ , but instead, he yelled back: “What is your suggestion, then? Would you rather have died than been saved?”

 

And, without even a second of hesitation, Anthony shouted: “ _Yes!_ ” 

 

The single word felt like a blow to the chest and Loki found himself staggering backwards, staring at the inventor with wide eyes.  _Well, it makes sense, doesn't it,_ some part of his mind muttered.  _Who would want to be with a monster?_

 

_But he doesn't_ know _it,_ Loki reasoned.  _He- he has no idea, how would he know? Nobody knows, it's not possible._

 

_ Then why?  _

 

“Look, Loki,” Anthony said, his voice cutting through the racing of the prince's thoughts. All the anger had vanished from his voice, left it quiet and hollow. “You don't understand...”

 

“No, I think I understand perfectly well,” Loki interrupted him, fighting to keep his voice calm and levelled, to keep the tremor out of it. “I shall leave you alone, then.” 

 

He blocked out Anthony's protests as he left the room with hurried steps. Everything in him screamed for an outlet for everything pooling in his mind right now, but he forced himself to control it; instead of slamming the door shut like he wanted to, he turned around and softly closed it behind himself. 

 

Then, he leaned his forehead against the cold metal and exhaled shakily, biting his lip so the pain of the skin breaking would distract him from that inside. He heard a muffled conversation of Fandral and Anthony, but couldn't make out the words. Maybe it was better that way.

 

Gathering his concentration, he slipped through one of the many cracks in Asgard's reality, weakened by the continuous use of magic in her halls, and entered his rooms – definitely  _not_ looking into the direction of Anthony's door down the hall. He made a beeline for the window, hastily pushing back the latches so he could push it open and gasp for the fresher air outside. 

 

Loki closed his eyes, resolutely pushing back the tears that were threatening to spill. He was no child, he wasn't going to cry. Not now. He simply didn't have the  _time_ for it. For a minute or two, he just stood there, at some point supporting himself on the windowsill so he could hide his face in his hands while he took deep, calming breaths. 

 

Eventually, he forced himself to stand straight and systematically stripped off his battle armour until he was in formal, but no longer combat-fit clothing. He briefly considered teleporting again, but he already felt weary and didn't want to push himself further if he didn't have to. Besides, some more minutes to clear his head would do him good.

 

_ I'm not going to get any rest today, am I, _ he thought with a crooked smile while he left his chamber and headed towards Odin's wing of the palace. On the way, he tried to keep himself from thinking about it, but Anthony's accusations kept echoing through his head. He balled his fists hard enough for his nails to dig into the tender skin of his palm.  _ I did nothing wrong _ ,  _ I saved his life, for Norn's sake. He is delirious, he doesn't know what he is saying. _

 

Far too soon, the doors (or, more fittingly, the gates) to Odin's and Frigga's wing came in sight. Loki would have liked to stop again to gather himself, but he didn't want to show his weak state to the guards in front of the entrance, so he kept walking and greeted them with a curt nod before he pushed one side of the large double doors open and entered the hallway inside.

 

He hadn't been to Odin's chambers in years. When they had been younger, he and Thor had frequented these halls, but that had stopped as they grew up – at least for Loki. The only one he visited here was Frigga. The last Odinsleep had been decades ago and it was the last time that Loki had seen more of Odin's rooms than the door when he walked by.

 

Now, he slipped through that door as well into the large room. In its middle stood an incredibly large bed, broad enough for five men of Odin's build; it made the old man in its middle look even smaller and weaker.

 

Frigga sat at one side of the bed, looking up as her son entered. Loki forced a weak smile and slowly crossed the room to sit down at the other side of the bed, staring down at his father in silence. Father. Not-father. He honestly didn't know. If Odin was not his father, what did that make of Frigga? What was he supposed to do with this knowledge now? He didn't want it, he would rather go back to wondering why Odin preferred Thor to him than live with this knowledge. He felt lost, completely and utterly lost, because his life suddenly had raw edges that he had never seen before.

 

“I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning,” Frigga suddenly spoke up. Her voice was hushed, as if anything could wake Odin now, but when he glanced up in surprise, Loki found nothing in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Only the same motherly care that she had alwas shown for him. “There should be no secrets in a family.”

 

_ So you knew, _ he wanted to say. Wanted to accuse her,  _ she _ could have told him, after all. A part of him wanted to know how Frigga knew that Loki had found out, but he knew about her visions. It made him wonder whether she knew about other things as well.

 

He looked down at Odin and then back at her. “So why did he lie?” The hollow, blank tone of his voice was startling to him, but if he didn't keep himself in check, he would probably break down entirely and that just could not happen.

 

“He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different,” Frigga replied quietly. The mage wanted to laugh. _Then maybe he shouldn't have treated me differently from his son._ “You are our son, Loki, and we your family,” she whispered. “You _must_ know that.” He couldn't stand the sincerity in her eyes any longer and stared down at Odin. Apparently, Frigga misinterpreted his glance because she quietly said: “You can speak to him. He can see and hear us even now.”

 

“How long will it last?” he asked.

 

“I don't know,” the queen replied, her voice dropping even further in volume. “This time, it's different. We were unprepared.”

 

“I will never get used to seeing him like this,” Loki found himself admitting. “The most powerful being in the Nine Realms lying helpless until his body is restored.”

 

Frigga reached out to clasp one of Odin's hand in hers. “He has put it off for so long now that I fear...” She swallowed and blinked rapidly, staring down at her husband's fingers as she left the sentence unfinished. “You're a good son... We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us. And your brother.”

 

Loki leaned forward as he inquired: “What hope is there for Thor?” He could have slapped himself right after; ever the little brother, hoping for his elder sibling to come and fix things. He should know better, now that he had spent centuries saving Thor and cleaning up after him.

 

“There's always a purpose to everything your father does,” Frigga replied. “Thor may yet find a way home.”

 

The prince swallowed, unconsciously smoothing out the fabric of the tunic over his knees, then he rose to his feet without giving another response. He had no idea where he wanted to go, but he couldn't stay still for long. Silently, he walked towards the door again, listening to his own boots clicking on the marble, when the doors suddenly swung open and he flinched. 

 

Outside stood a squad of guards and he felt a brief second of panic,  _they know, she told them_ , before they knelt down simultaneously with a sharp salute and another gold-clad warrior stepped into the room. In his hands, he held Gungnir, but not as a weapon, but as an offering. The man approached Loki with measured steps before he sunk down to his knees in front of the prince and held the spear high.

 

Loki stared at him incredulously, then turned around to look at Frigga, wordlessly asking her about what was happening.

 

“Thor is banished,” she stated, now in her queen voice, not that of a mother. “The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens, Asgard is yours.” 

 

Slowly, the prince turned back and stared down at Gungnir. He took several deep breaths to calm the conflicting emotions in his chest – incredulity, first and foremost, he got a lot of that today; trepidation; but also a twisted sort of joy. This was not what he had been aiming for when he had thwarted Thor's coronation, so far more than he had even dared to dream of.

 

Another, sarcastic part of his mind muttered  _and there goes the hope of getting any sleep today._

 

Ignoring it, Loki stepped forward and reverently took Gungnir from the man's grasp. The soldier retreated immediately and the prince –  _king_ , now – turned around to face his mother hesitantly. 

 

She smiled, more as a mother than as a queen, and whispered: “Make your father proud.”

 

And in that moment, Loki realised that it was not too late for that. The coronation might have worked out far differently from what he had planned, and he could never have expected what he had learned today, but that didn't mean it was all over. He still had a chance,  _this_ was his opportunity to prove his worth to Odin. Frigga had called them a family, and Loki felt a sudden determination to show his father that he was worth just as much as his elder brother. No matter where he came from or why he had been brought here originally, he could prove himself, he  _would_ show Odin that he could be just as good of a son as Thor. 

 

But first, he would have to get changed.

 

 

 

 


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the trilogy, including the actual fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally. Jesus, you have no idea how fucking difficult that was to write, I was so fucking annoyed by this "short special" that became a 44-page-drama-trilogy, you wouldn't fucking believe me.  
> Excuse my language. Steve would be disappointed, but he didn't appear yet, so that's okay.  
> I'm sorry for making you wait so incredibly long!

Loki did get some sleep that night. The exhaustion made him collapse into his bed early for his standards, only shortly after being proclaimed king by Frigga; however, he was awoken a few hours later by a nightmarish dream of Thor being torn apart by a pack of wolves on Midgard, without his divine powers to defend himself, while Anthony stood at the side of the forest clearing and yelled that _of course_ Thor would rather die than be saved by him, Jotnar were monsters, what did he expect. Odin was leaning against a tree and watched everything with weary disappointment in his eyes while Frigga insisted that there were no secrets in a family.

 

With a groan, Loki pushed the blankets away and stared outside at one of the two moons as if it held the answers to his questions. Unsurprisingly, it didn't. Since Asgard was still asleep anyway, he decided that it was time to have a bath; he could have sworn he still felt Anthony's blood on his hands and the Jotun's touch on his arm.

 

Despite the warmth of the water, he couldn't seem to stay still and relax and stay still for even half an hour. In the end, he just scrubbed himself down quickly and changed into half-formal gear. Should the need arise, he could simply pull on the royal armour over it without making it look unnatural.

 

Then, grateful for the few hours of sleep he had gotten, he teleported into Anthony's and his workshop. If he couldn't sleep, he could as well make himself useful.

 

As it turned out, Anthony's advice was more vital for the crafting than he had thought, but after a night spent over the materials they needed, Loki knew the metals and their structure more intimately than he would have thought possible. It took him a few tries to find the right amount of material, but since it had only been a month ago, he succeeded in less than fifteen minutes.

 

Despite their previous argument, he found himself smiling when he sunk down into the armchair with two metal orbs in his hands. Without his little genius, the idea of 'particle acceleration' (what a title) would never have so much as occurred to him, and although it had taken him a bit to grasp the concept completely, he had come to adore Anthony's mind a great deal more when the mortal had explained the concept to him. _How old is he in Midgardian years, forty? Closer to thirty, most likely. He's a child. And such a brilliant one._

 

He pushed all thoughts aside to concentrate on the materials in his palms, let his magic seep into them, into smaller and smaller parts of the metal. _Molecules. Atoms._ He had known they existed, of course, it was vital to know about them for spells like teleportation and others that interfered with the natural fabric of the realms, but he would never have thought to use it in the way that Anthony had taught him.

 

Little more than fifteen minutes later, he held another orb of the new, nameless element in his hands and smiled at it silently. He had, however, no idea how to fabricate the casing of the device; there were limits to what he could do, too. Thoughtfully, he stared at the glowing little orb in his hands. He couldn't just set it down somewhere, but neither could he carry it around until he had the chance to give it to Anthony.

 

He settled for casting a simple spell to let it levitate in the air for now until he could come and get it together with the inventor. For now, he should probably tell Anthony that he could finish crafting his replacement; even with the new Aesir body that the mortal would soon possess, palladium was unlikely to be healthy. Now that he had only just recovered from a month-long poisoning, Loki wasn't going to be responsible for Anthony getting it into his system again. Contently, he rose from his armchair and cast a last glance at the shining orb floating above the table.

 

Then, his eyes flickered towards one of the large windows. It was dawning outside and he would be expected in the throne room by the time the sun rose... so there was just enough time to pay Anthony another visit, to check up on him, possibly to tell him about the new core for his reactor – whether he wanted to see Loki or not, he would want to know about that, right?

 

 _You are pathetic,_ he thought scornfully as he left the room. _You are a pri– you are the king of Asgard and stand here making up excuses to visit a slave? Ridiculous._

 

But still... he couldn't simply force himself on Anthony when the genius obviously didn't want it. Didn't want him. Well, of course, there was nothing physically stopping him, so to say, but it wasn't what he wanted. Quite the opposite, actually.

 

Why was he justifying his actions in front of himself now, anyway?

 

With a determined shake of his head, Loki teleported himself into his rooms and dressed into the ceremonial king's armour as quickly as possible, not willing to allow himself to stall any longer. After a beat of hesitation, he decided to take Gungnir with him. He didn't have much time left until he was supposed to show up in the throne room, so he would probably be grateful for every bit of time he saved now.

 

Still, he allowed himself the minutes that it took to walk to the medical wing, using the way to collect and calm his racing thoughts.

 

Despite his usual self-control, he failed miserably. He became the opposite of calm, actually; the more he tried not to think about them, the livelier did Anthony's words return to him. _You didn't just_ _make me immortal_ _, like that's your call to make, you can't just decide that sort of thing!_ His mind kept moving in circles, playing the same sentence over and over again. _Would you rather have died than been saved?_

 

_Yes!_

 

He was more nervous when he had arrived than he had already been. Maybe he should leave Anthony alone, especially now. A thousand years were a long time to hold a grudge, the inventor would have to forgive him eventually. Loki was sure of it.

 

Now, he just needed to convince himself of it, too.

 

The mage opened the door before he could think about it any further. He had no time to waste, after all.

 

Anthony was asleep. Loki felt a great deal of the tension drain from his body and scolded himself for not thinking of this earlier – of course he would be asleep, the sun had not even risen yet. Why would he be awake at this hour? He enjoyed sleeping in, after all.

 

He approached the inventor's bed with quiet footsteps. Fandral was nowhere to be seen, apparently he had been seen fit to be released. Just him and a sleeping Anthony, then. There wasn't much that could go wrong here, right?

 

 _How often have I thought that in the past few days?_ Loki smirked humourlessly. _Dangle him as a bait to stall Freyja. What could possibly go wrong? Stay with Thor and Odin before looking after Anthony. Where could that backlash? Keep him alive with Idunn's apple. There's no way that could have anything else than benefits, is there?_ Yes, because all of that went well so far.

 

Heaving a sigh, he looked down at Anthony. He looked far from peaceful; his jaw was tense and even in his apparently shallow sleep, pain was written clearly in his features. His cheeks were flushed like from a fever and the dark brown bangs hanging in his face were sticky with sweat. Loki curled his free hand into a fist to keep himself from brushing the hair out of Anthony's face; sure, he was asleep, he wouldn't know about it later, but he wouldn't want it either. Loki could take all he wanted, but it was worth nothing if _Anthony_ didn't want it as well.

 

Suddenly, the inventor groaned and blinked, his eyes glazed over, but almost immediately focussing on Loki.

 

 _Now is the moment to tell him_. _Just get it over with and tell him that the new core is finished and ready for him to use. That's all you have to do, there is nothing to it. Just_ say _it, for Norn's sake._

 

Loki turned on his heel and left the room with hurried steps without uttering a word. Anthony would write the whole ten seconds that they had stared at each other off as some fever-induced dream and they would never talk about it again. Loki hadn't ever even been there.

 

He made his way to the throne room like he was being chased, like there was any chance of Anthony getting up in the state he was in and following him, and even if he did, what could he do? Nothing, there was nothing that Anthony could do, nothing that he hadn't already done...

 

...Like, for example, twisting Loki's insides with the way he looked at him, trusting, sparkling brown eyes, wide with curiosity and enthusiasm when they sat in the library and Loki had gotten one of the old books out, the ones that the usual visitors of these halls didn't usually got their hands on. Like making the prince – king, but did it really matter? – smile more openly than he ever did in front of the court, or Odin, for that matter, just because of a witty, whispered remark about one of the nobles passing them by on their walks through the palace. In the beginning, those had always been followed by Anthony ducking his head and his shoulders tensing, as if he expected to be punished for his sarcastic commentary; the saddest thing about that was that Loki could imagine that it had happened before, more than once for that matter. Like the way he managed to make Loki's heart flutter when he fell asleep in their workshop, his head pillowed on his arms and his hair messy from where he had run his hands through it while deep in thought.

 

Like the way his eyes had narrowed in anger and, buried much deeper, a deep-rooted kind of fear, as Loki had told him about the apple, and the way that Anthony had managed to deflate him from relief and pride about having saved his life to feeling like he had committed a cruel, a _horrid_ crime without even understanding what it was.

 

And Norns, he _wanted_ to understand, but he couldn't see where living was a bad thing, he couldn't see what he had done to cause the panic in Anthony's eyes, he couldn't see what he had done to deserve the inventor's words. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to make it right, but he _couldn't_ if he didn't understand what was _wrong_.

 

By the time he arrived at the throne room, Loki was about ready to curl up and cry with frustration like he was a hundred years old again.

 

He didn't, of course; he strode into the throne room with regal steps, his head held high and his posture every inch a king's. It was the first day that he would officially act as Asgard's king and in times like this, first impressions were everything.

 

With that thought in mind, he fought through the morning with a constant, small smile when it was needed, a firm frown when the situation called for it, and never ending patience. Around midday, he was about ready to commit genocide. Theoretically, he had known about the duties of a king, but he had never imagined all of this to be _this_ horribly boring. Despite his still simmering feelings of anger and betrayal towards Odin, he couldn't help but feel a new sort of respect for the old man; and this had merely been half a day of ruling.

 

Who knew, maybe three thousand years of this would have made him as tired, stubborn and bitter as Odin.

 

Loki had just begun to slouch slightly on the throne when the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall again. Heaving a sigh, he sat up straighter just as a familiar voice rang through the room: “All-Father, we must speak with you urgently. It –“

 

There was a moment of silence when the Warriors Three caught sight of him. Loki kept his expression neutral while taking in the looks of incredulity on the others' faces, noting that Fandral was apparently wholly recovered by now, staring up at him out of wide, blue eyes.

 

Volstagg was the first one to find his words again as he demanded: “What is this?”

 

“My _friends_ ,” Loki drawled, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “haven't you heard? _I_ am now ruler of Asgard.” The helmet (he was fairly sure that he had heard Anthony calling it _Horny Helmet_ once) weighed heavily on his head and he had absolutely no desire to deal with these four oafs now. Still, there was no way around it, he supposed.

 

He watched as his four guests reluctantly sunk to their knees, first Fandral and then the others, following their friends example. It was Fandral who spoke up first, too: “Where is Odin?”

 

Loki kept his expression neutral, carefully paying a mind not to grimace at the mention of the old man's name, as he replied: “Father has fallen into the Odinsleep. Mother fears he may never awaken again.”

 

Sif exchanged a look with the others before she said: “We would speak with her.”

 

“She has refused to leave my father's bedside. You can bring your _urgent_ matter to me,” Loki responded, trying to rein in the sarcasm that might just start dripping from his words if this got any further. He leaned forward, a hand on his chest, and added for emphasis: “ _Your king._ ”

 

Quickly, Sif covered for the others' silence: “We would ask you to end Thor's banishment.”

 

Loki rose from the throne, Gungnir tightly in his grasp, while he answered slowly, as if talking to a child: “My first command cannot be to undo the All-Father's last. We are on the brink of a war with Jotunheim. Our people must have a sense of continuity to feel safe in these difficult times.”

 

Sif practically jumped up from her spot, ready to pounce on him, but she was held back by both Fandral and Volstagg. The swordsman looked up at Loki, emotions battling for dominance in his eyes.

 

The mage suppressed a smirk and continued: “We must all stand together, for the good of Asgard.”

 

Slowly, Fandral bowed his head. “Of course.”

 

It took some more agonising seconds until Sif finally broke her defiant glare and turned around on her heel. The others stood, each of them bowing just deep enough as not to be disrespectful. Fandral lingered the longest, meeting Loki's eyes for a long moment before he bowed – deeper than the rest – and then followed them out of the hall.

 

Loki leaned back against the throne with a tired sigh as soon as he was alone again. His first day and he already found being king more tedious than he had thought possible. A part of that might be his lacking enthusiasm – the conviction from the evening before had left him after the first two hours of sitting on the throne. Here, there were no heroic deeds or epic adventures he could impress Odin with. The most remarkable thing he had done so far was not slicing half of his guests' heads off after he had had to listen to the same doubts and complaints about his unexpected kingship for the umpteenth time. Thinking about it, he found that that already deserved a some recognition.

 

The hall was silent around him, allowing the thoughts he had pushed into the back of his mind to return once again. Frigga had said that there was a chance of Thor returning to Asgard; and while, in the first moment, that thought had felt hopeful, like he could somehow make right what he had done...

 

...he couldn't let it happen. He _couldn't_. If Thor returned, it would mean that he was worthy to – and right now, that would destroy everything Loki had built up here. Thor came back, became king; Loki's own trap was going to snap shut around him. He would be rightfully bound to hand Anthony over to Freyja, according to a verbal contract that had been concluded right in front of Asgard's queen. Mother or not, Frigga couldn't protect him in that case.

 

Not that he, personally, would have any problem with murdering the crazy siblings to prevent that contract from coming into action, but right now, when everything was in uproar over Odin's possible death, Thor's banishment and the slowly spreading news of Loki's kingship, a scandal was the last thing he could use. He would risk to cause one if that was what it took, but he'd really rather avoid that.

 

Which meant that he would have prevent Thor from coming back too early.

 

~*~

 

It was ridiculously easy to blend in among the mortals. A suit and a simple spell that averted the others' eyes from Loki was all it took to walk in there and have a chat with Thor without anyone even seeming to notice him.

 

Convincing his desperate brother that he could not return home left Loki with a bitter taste on his tongue, but proved to be just as simple.

 

 _It's not forever_ , he told himself. _Just until this is resolved._ As soon as he knew that Anthony wasn't in danger anymore, he was going to make sure that Thor could return - but for now, his brother would have to be fine on his own. He was over a thousand years old, he would manage. _And maybe a lesson in humility will do the damned oaf good._

 

He hadn't expected it to work. Not really. Still, when he tried to lift Mjölnir from its place embedded in the rock and the hammer did not budge an inch, Loki felt a sharp pang of disappointment when he let the short shaft go again. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, that this was not what he was here for, but the knowledge that Thor still had this over him hurt.

 

 _Not what I'm here for,_ he reminded himself. _It does not matter._

 

One day, he'd believe himself.

 

~*~

 

Loki didn't linger in his chambers. He changed back into his usual armour and sat down on his bed, breathed in deeply and tried to regain the calmness he needed to come in contact with his own magic. If he had been able to ignore how shaken he was before, it didn't work when he concentrated on his power; it was unsteady, waiting to lash out against anything that came too close.

 

The mage cursed quietly and gritted his teeth. Magic had its own will and was far more difficult to tame if the one attempting to do the taming wasn't in accord with himself. From an early age on, Loki had learned how to rein in his emotions, making him the calmer of the two brothers, and he wasn't about to lose that ability now.

 

It took him longer than usual, but after some minutes, he was calm enough to trust himself with making decisions again. He took some more deep breaths, then, he attached the dark green cape to his armour. For a second, he considered taking his ceremonial helmet, but decided against it. He definitely couldn't use it freezing to his head.

 

He left his chambers and headed towards the Bifröst with fast, hurried steps. Heimdall greeted him with a bow of his head that was just on the right side of polite - the gatekeeper had never liked him and that was unlikely to change.

 

"Jotunheim," Loki demanded curtly, returning the nod.

 

Heimdall's eyebrows rose and he asked: "May I inquire the cause for this?"

 

"A political visit," the mage responded with a clipped smile. "Somebody will have to right what Thor and his friends did, and it seems that this duty is mine now."

 

Slowly, the gatekeeper nodded and activated the Bifröst with his sword. Loki closed his eyes and let the pull of the bridge take him, finding himself where Odin had appeared on Sleipnir's back the day before.

 

He looked around as he renewed the spell that he used to shroud himself from Heimdall's eyes. He _would_ prove he was worthy, no matter what it took. _He can see and hear us even now,_ Frigga's voice echoed in his head. Loki's clouding spells had proven to be useful even against Odin in the past and he would just have to hope that it didn't change when his father went into the Odinsleep.

 

Loki shuddered, but it was not because of the icy wind on his skin. The cold had never bothered him. _And now I know why. Oh joy._ Apprehensively, he made his way over the vast, icy surface of Jotunheim, slowly and steadily making his way towards where they had met Laufey the other day.

 

Darkness was shrouding the old temple, save for the shafts of light knifing through gaps in the damaged ceiling. Surprisingly quietly for their height, the Jotnar circled Loki, all of them half-hidden in the shadows between columns and fallen rocks of ice.

 

With dozens of blood-red eyes watching him, Loki suddenly didn't feel apprehensive anymore. He was _scared_.

 

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." And no, that was really not helping.

 

Looking up into Laufey's eyes, Loki forced himself to stand tall and sound more confident than he was as he replied, spreading his arms: "I've come alone and unarmed."

 

Laufey leaned forward on his throne. "To what end?"

 

"To make you another proposition."

 

There was a moment of hesitation as realisation dawned on the Jotun's eyes. He rose from his throne and approached Loki with his next words, towering over Asgard's king menacingly: "You are the one who let us into Asgard."

 

The mage gave him a thin-lipped smile. "You're welcome."

 

Suddenly, a large hand closed around his throat, lifting Loki up so he had to stand on the tip of his toes as Laufey snarled: "My men are dead and I have no casket. You are a deceiver."

 

Forcing himself to stay still so he wouldn't make a fool of himself by struggling against the far stronger being, Loki forced a grin that was all teeth as he responded: "You have _no idea_ what I am." He hoped that his racing pulse wasn't noticeable, but with the other's hand where it was, that was unlikely. Under his skin, he could feel his magic stirring again when the cold, unforgiving grip around his throat chased the paleness of his Aesir glamour away and Laufey's eyes widened in shock and fascination. His grin widening, Loki greeted: "Hello, father."

 

Laufey released him and took a small step back, sizing his son up while Loki drew a deep breath. Smirking, the Jotun stated: "Ah, the bastard son. I thought Odin had killed you. That's what I would have done." And with those words, every possible trace of regret of what he was about to do vanished from Loki's mind. This one was no better than Odin, after all. "He's as weak as you are."

 

"No longer weak," the mage corrected, sounding only slightly raspy. "I now rule Asgard until Odin awakens. Perhaps you should not have so carelessly abandoned me." He couldn't help the hint of bitterness that shone through his words.

 

They gave Laufey pause as he cocked his head slightly. "Or perhaps," he replied slowly, "it was the wisest choice I've ever made. I will hear you."

 

Loki took another deep breath before he explained: "I will conceal you and a handful of your soldiers, lead you into his chambers and let you slay him where he lies. I'll keep the throne, and you will have the Casket."

 

The Jotun's eyes searched Loki's face for any trace of a lie, but he had himself perfectly under control. He had to. One little slip, and everything might just be in vain. After a few seconds, Laufey asked warily: "Why would you do this?"

 

"When all is done, we will have a permanent peace between our two worlds," Loki replied without missing a beat, remembering the words Odin had spoken in the vault. It was an admirable goal, the old man had just approached it all wrong. "Then I, the _bastard son_ , will have accomplished what Odin and Thor never could."

 

That seemed to satisfy Laufey; a grin began to spread on his features. "This is a great day for Jotunheim. Asgard is finally ours."

 

"No," Loki contradicted with a shake of his head, "Asgard is mine. The rest of the Nine Realms will be yours, if you do as you're told." _Come on, keep swallowing lies, you greedy monster._

 

Another tension-filled moment passed, then Laufey declared: "I accept."

 

Loki nodded and turned to leave without another response. As soon as he left the temple, he let the slightest trace of a smile cross his face, but schooled his features into neutrality again as he dropped his clouding spell and called out for Heimdall. A moment later, the golden shine of the Bifröst enveloped him.

 

When it subsided, Loki could feel Heimdall's glare on him and looked up with a half smile as he asked: "What troubles you, Gatekeeper?"

 

"I turned my gaze upon you in Jotunheim, but I could neither see nor hear you," the gold-clad man stated with his dark voice. "You were shrouded from me, like the Frost Giants who entered this Realm."

 

"Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service," he replied with fake indulgence.

 

"Or perhaps someone has found a way to hide that which he does not wish me to see."

 

Loki sized the tall man up, smiled to cover up his thoughts racing behind his calm facade. "You have great power, Heimdall," he stated. "Tell me, did Odin ever fear you?"

 

"No."

 

"And why is that?"

 

"Because he is my King and I am sworn to obey him."

 

"Exactly," Loki nodded affirmingly. "Just as you're sworn to obey me now. Yes?"

 

There was a beat of hesitation before Heimdall answered, with barely concealed reluctance: "Yes."

 

"Good," Loki praised. "Then you will open the Bifröst to no-one until I have undone what my brother has started."

 

Without waiting for a reply, he headed out of the Observatory. Heimdall's gaze prickled at the back of his neck for a long time.

 

~*~

 

The rest of the day passed with the same boring routine that had started it and Loki retreated into his chambers as soon as the sun touched the horizon. He fell backwards onto his bed, completely gracelessly, and let his limbs splay out around him. No-one was around to watch and judge now. _Finally_.

 

Norns, no, being king was far too dull for him. He would have preferred Thor on the throne, Thor who would be bathing in the people's attention and handle all the boring public stuff, while Loki could linger in the background and step in when it was necessary, handle the more delicate and twisted things that his brother would inevitably fail at.

 

But he couldn't have him returning. Not now. Soon, when everything was settled, when Anthony was safe - but not now.

 

When had his thinking begun to revolve around one single person?

 

With a sigh, Loki pulled the heavy ceremonial helmet off and tossed it into a corner carelessly before he began to strip out of his regal armour, which was poking and pricking uncomfortably in his position on the bed.

 

By the time he slid under the covers, too exhausted from his day to do much else, he was tense with anticipation and apprehension for the next day. There was so much that could go wrong, it was hard to properly relax in a state like this. Then again, he had to be in control of his emotions to use magic, so he should be able to calm down enough to catch some hours of rest.

 

He managed to silence his restless mind enough to fall asleep in less than an hour.

 

~*~

 

Still, he woke early in the next morning, the sky outside just beginning to lighten up gently. For a minute, Loki contemplated to just go back to sleep, but he would have to get up soon, anyway, so he reluctantly changed back into his pompous, ceremonial armour, including the helmet, and headed towards the throne room, forgoing breakfast for the day.

 

On his way, he made a detour out to one of the large balconies looking out over the rest of Asgard. The view from up here, with the sky slowly gaining colour overhead, was magnificent. Peaceful. Calm, for once.

 

Which was why the moment had to be interrupted, _of course._ With a weary sigh, Loki turned into the direction of the sound of footsteps approaching him and ,et the eyes of the Einherjar guard who came hurried out onto the balcony to announce, slightly out of breath: “My liege, the Warriors Three and Sif have gone missing.”

 

 _No. Oh, no, no, no, you_ morons _, why must you make this so hard on all of us?_ Loki gritted his teeth, tightening his grip around Gungnir as he hurried towards the bridge. He could have made it right. He could have solved the Freyja-Freyr-situation, taken care of Laufey, and gotten Thor back, but _no_ , they had to interfere, they had to go and destroy it all again. _Imbeciles._ Well then, he would just have to act quickly.

 

“Tell me, Loki,” Heimdall greeted him at the end of the Bifröst, stepping out of the Observatory, “how did you get the Jotuns into Asgard?”

 

Oh, _great._ Just _marvellous_. “You think the Bifröst is the only way in and out of the Realm?” he retorted. “There are secret paths between worlds to which even you with all your gifts are blind. But I have need of them no longer, now that I am king.” He came closer, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to ignore that the gatekeeper was still towering over him nonetheless. “And I say, for your act of treason, you are relieved of your duties as gatekeeper and you are no longer a citizen of Asgard.”

 

“Then I need no longer obey you.”

 

Well. Damn.

 

Heimdall raised his massive sword and strode towards Loki. The mage reached out his hands to grasp the handles of the Casket of Ancient Winters as he pulled it out of his pocket dimension. Immediately, he could feel his magic pulsing at the touch, his fingers taking the disgusting dark blue of the Jotun skin. He stared up at Heimdall so he wouldn't have to look at himself as he opened the Casket towards the Gatekeeper, unleashing the howling, icy wings trapped inside of it.

 

Ice began to cling to the guardian's body, freezing in bigger and bigger patches, yet he was still moving forward, although his movements were getting slower by the second. Still, he managed to take a swing at Loki and the mage was just about to take a step back when the blade stopped just before his throat.

 

With a quiet sigh of relief, he closed the Casket and stored it again before sidestepping Heimdall's frozen body, taking Gungnir up again, and approaching the controls of the Observatory.

 

Slowly, he inserted the spear to the socket and took a second to revel in the feeling of sudden power coursing through him before he closed his eyes and reached out with the additional might that the bridge provided him with, only serving to fuel his rage on the imbeciles insisting of spoiling his every plan. While the Observatory began to spin around him, the Destroyer materialised before him, a fiery glow rising within it.

 

Loki stared at the veiled machine and quietly ordered: “Ensure my brother does not return.” Then, he let the Bifröst swallow the metallic creature.

 

Next, he turned his attention towards Jotunheim. Taking another fortifying breath, he forbade himself to stall any longer and opened the Bifröst. Just seconds later, Laufey and two of his soldiers stepped out onto the platform and Loki pulled Gungnir from the socket.

 

Determinedly, he pushed his concerns and doubts back. There was no going back now. With a thin-lipped smile, he greeted: “Father. Welcome to Asgard.”

 

The pounding of his heart in his chest made him light-headed and he was tempted just to turn around and cancel all of this, _what in Hel's name am I doing, there is no way this is going to work,_ but that wasn't really an option anymore. He barely heard Laufey's rumbled response as he turned around and led the Jotnar out of the Observatory and onto the bridge. Two of them stayed behind, taking positions on either sides of Heimdall's frozen body, and Loki cast a cloaking spell around himself, the Jotun king and the two soldiers he took with himself. He didn't really need to attract the attention of Asgard's citizen and it was really unlikely that they would miss a Jotun walking through the city.

 

Their way towards Odin's chamber was a haze. Adrenaline, anticipation and, not that he liked to admit that, dread made the minutes the way took blur together and they entered Odin's chambers far too early.

 

Laufey seemed to all but forget his son as he caught sight of Asgard's old king. Walking towards him while a blade of ice formed around his arm, he murmured in his deep voice: “It's said that you can still see and hear everything that transpires around you.” Loki, behind him, took a shaky breath and gripped Gungnir more tightly. Anytime now. “I hope it's true, so you will know your death came by the hand of Laufey.”

 

He raised the blade in the same moment that Loki raised Gungnir and before the Jotun could bring his arm down, a blast of pure concentrated energy hit him in the back and flung him against the opposite wall.

 

“And your death,” Loki breathed, slowly setting Gungnir down next to himself, “came by the son of Odin.”

 

He only got a second to revel in the realisation that _yes_ , it _had_ worked, and if Odin could truly see him now, he would know what Loki had done. With an easy movement, he raised the spear again and fired a blast at one of the Jotnar who were moving for him. He was about to take out the second one when the brute's eyes widened and he collapsed into a heap of icy limbs on the floor.

 

Frigga's sword was sticking out of his back and she stared at Loki over the corpse before she hurried towards him and locked him in a tight embrace. The mage returned it, ignoring the brief flare of bad conscience as he vowed: “I swear to you, mother, they will pay for what they've done today. I will _end_ the Jotun threat, now and forever!” He stepped back, casting a look at Odin as he added quietly: “And I will make you proud.”

 

For that moment, everything was perfect. Relief and euphoria flooded Loki's system, making him even more light-headed than before, but this time, it was in a good way. Which was why it couldn't last. Anthony's ironic voice echoed in his head, _this is why we can't have nice things_ , when Thor appeared in the doorway, panting and blood drying on his forehead.

 

Loki felt all thoughts grind to a sudden halt. _No, stop, this is wrong. This is not how it's supposed to be._ Why _is he here?_

 

“Thor!” Frigga exclaimed, extracting herself from Loki's arms to hurry over to her eldest son. The blond warrior half-heartedly returned her hug, but never tore his eyes away from Loki.

 

The mage glanced down at Mjölnir in his brother's hand and raised an eyebrow, faking calmness that he didn't feel in the slightest: “Found her way back to you, did she?”

 

“No thanks to you,” the prince responded darkly.

 

Frigga, picking up on the growing tension between her sons, took a careful step back and glanced from one to the other with a softly spoken “What?”

 

“Why don't you tell her?” Thor sneered, his grip around the hammer tightening as he stepped closer. “How you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends? To kill me?” _Suddenly, they are_ our _friends, huh?_

 

Loki cocked his head slightly and quickly lied: “He must have been enforcing father's last command, then.” He ignored Frigga's alarmed and confused gaze on him, it was distracting, he could really not use his bad conscience right now. He had done nothing wrong. They'd see that, sooner or later. For now, he had to try to keep this situation at bay somehow.

 

“You are a talented liar, brother. Always have been.”

 

Or, well. Maybe not.

 

“It's good to have you back,” Loki said with a smile, shifting the spear in his hands. Then, his expression shifted into something colder; there was no use in lying any longer, he would just have to go through with his plan and hope that he was fast enough. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim.”

 

He raised Gungnir and fired it point-blank at Thor. The blast sent the thunderer flying backwards, right through the wall and possibly the one behind it.

 

Without sparing a glance towards Frigga, he closed his eyes and envisioned the Observatory. When he opened them again, he was surrounded by the dome's golden walls. Without giving himself another second to hesitate, he strode over to the controls and practically rammed Gungnir into the panel, turning the spear and opening the Bifröst towards Jotunheim.

 

_Leaving it open for too long would unleash the Bifröst's power on Jotunheim without limitations, which would destroy the realm with all of you on it._

 

_Why, thank you, Heimdall._

 

The massive turret began to spin and aligned in the right direction. This time, the connection between the two realms was not made for transportation; it was simply the Bifröst's power unleashed without control or restraint. Loki pulled Gungnir from the socket and stepped back when ice began to spread from the control panel.

 

He heard Thor landing heavily on the bridge outside and tore his gaze away from the beautiful spectacle in front of him to face his brother as he mused: “All these years, and no-one ever dared to use it as a weapon.”

 

Thor stared at him with wide eyes and hurried towards the ever growing block of ice with Mjölnir ready to strike in his hand. Before he could reach the control panel, Loki raised Gungnir and used its force to blast the prince back against a wall once more. While Thor staggered to his feet, Loki descended the steps leading up to the control panel.

 

“You can't stop it,” he stated. “The Bifröst will build until it rips Jotunheim apart.”

 

“Why have you done this?” Thor demanded, sounding almost desperate. Desperate for a race he hated. _Ridiculous._

 

“To do what father never could,” Loki responded coldly. “To destroy their kind forever. When he awakens, he'll see the wisdom of what I've done.” They would all see. In time.

 

“He won't!” Thor nearly shouted, brandishing his hammer. “You can't kill an entire race!”

 

“What is this new-found love for the Frost Giants?” Loki snarled, gripping Gungnir tighter as he advanced on his brother. “You, who would have killed them all with your bare hands?”

 

“I've changed.”

 

Oh, but he had. The Thor he had known would maybe not have approved of Loki's methods, but he would never have tried to stop Loki from erasing a race like the Jotnars', one that he considered a shame to the Nine Realms at that. No, his brother would have joined in with glee.

 

“So have I,” he bit out and _slapped_ Thor with the flat side of Gungnir's blade. “Now _fight me_ , brother.” He had expected that to work. A humiliating gesture like that, with no chance of actually hurting Thor, would usually have offended his elder brother enough to make him lash out in retaliation. Gritting his teeth, he swung the spear again, this time with the intention to hurt Thor – he had had enough warning – but the thunderer just caught it in his hand and raised Mjölnir. For a moment, Loki thought he was finally going to fight back, but instead, he hauled himself into the air and towards the control panel.

 

The mage threw him off-course with another blast from Gungnir and Thor, while getting back to his feet, shouted over the crackling of the Bifröst: “Is the throne really worth what you've done? What you became?”

 

 _I didn't become anything, this is all I ever was,_ Loki thought bitterly. “I never wanted the throne,” he snarled and then, surprised by his own furious honesty, continued: “All I ever wanted was to be your _equal_.” Which was true, in a way, but definitely not the whole truth. Then again, he had even less interest in admitting to Thor that he had foiled his coronation to protect Anthony than telling him about his jealousy. One of the two was bad enough already. “Now fight me!” _For Hel's sake, since when do I have to ask you to fight? You were always so keen on your brawls and now? The one time when I could use your belligerence._

 

“I will not fight you, brother!”

 

“I am not your brother,” Loki hissed. “I never was.” He had planned on distracting Thor, stalling him a little bit longer so he wouldn't be able to stop the Bifröst. He hadn't wanted to have this argument with him. Not now. Possibly not ever.

 

“Loki, this is madness.”

 

“Is it? _Is it_?” He fired another blast from Gungnir, Thor dodged and rolled to his feet, but _still_ didn't counter. “What happened on Midgard that turned you so soft?” The one time, the _one time_ in his life he wanted Thor to fight him. “Don't tell me it was that woman!” There was no response to that, just Thor silently gritting his teeth and gripping Mjölnir tighter. Loki's eyes widened slightly in surprise and he continued: “Oh. It _was_. Well, perhaps when we are finished here, I'll pay her a little visit myself!”

 

That finally did it. With a roar, the prince jumped at Loki, his hammer raised high, and Loki riposted with Gungnir as they began a heated exchange of blows. Loki didn't actually aim to win; all he needed to do was distract Thor long enough for the Bifröst to finish its work. For a while, nobody spoke a word, until a sudden pulse from the Bifröst tossed them out of the Observatory with twin shouts.

 

Loki used the brief moment of confusion to cast an invisibility spell while he crafted a clone, hanging on to the edge of the bridge and pleading for Thor to help him. Tensely, he watched as his brother came to stand on his feet again and stared down at the clone for a moment before he crouched to pull the illusion back up.

 

For a moment, Loki wanted to grin widely. Some part of him had expected Thor not to care, or maybe to step on his fingers to make him fall. To see the thunderer still trying to 'save' him gave him a strange feeling of relief.

 

Not that he would have Thor knowing about that.

 

He pretended not to see the flash of betrayal in the other god's eyes when the illusion flickered and vanished upon being touched. For a while, he let Thor fight his clones futilely – stalling, stalling, he was still just stalling until Jotunheim was no more – and watched his sibling grow more and more enraged until he raised Mjölnir with a frustrated yell and summoned a bolt of lightning that spread out over the bridge to hit every single one of the illusions.

 

The blast sent Loki stumbling backwards and knocked Gungnir from his grasp. Dazedly, he laid on his back, trembled running through his body from the sudden electric shock. He blinked rapidly, trying to get up and wincing when Thor stepped over him. There was a sudden weight on him that pushed the air from his lungs.

 

With an incredulous inhale, he stared up at Thor and then at Mjölnir on his chest. Gritting his teeth against the pain of his ribs, feeling like they were going to bend in and crack at any second, he tried to pull Mjölnir off, but it didn't budge an inch. Of course it didn't. Even after all he had done, for Asgard, for Odin, for _all of them_ , and still Thor was the one who was _worthy_ and _golden_ and _loved_.

 

They would see. In time.

 

Forcing a grin, he looked up at Thor who stared towards the Observatory, something akin to desperation marring his features. With a slightly strangled voice from the pressure on his chest, he called out: “Look at you! The _mighty Thor wi_ th all your strength. What good does it do you now?” If he wanted to rid Loki of all his weapons, he would have to gag him.

 

Thor looked at him, then down at the bridge and over to the Observatory. Then, his gaze fell down to the bridge again, vibrating with the force of the Bifröst energy being transferred to the dome at its end. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realisation.

 

The crushing weight on Loki's chest vanished and he let his head fall back, breathing in deeply as his lungs felt free again. For a few seconds, he just laid on his back, gasping for air, when a sudden tremor shook the bridge. His head snapped up and he stared at Thor, who knelt on the Bifröst and was raising Mjölnir again to bring her back down on the bridge.

 

“What are you _doing_?!” Loki yelled, stumbling to his feet. He almost lost his balance again when another tremor went through the bridge. No, _no_ , this oaf was going to ruin everything, he had to _stop_ , how was he going to get him to stop? Right. His woman. “If you destroy the bridge, you will never see her again!”

 

Thor hesitated, murmuring something that sounded like “forgive me”, but didn't stop, crashing Mjölnir down on the bridge over and over again. Hastily, Loki grabbed Gungnir and ran towards his brother, raising the spear as he prepared to pounce on Thor.

 

A wave of energy hauled him off his feet, upwards into the air with a force that knocked the air out of Loki's lungs _again_. With a startled cry, he spun in the air, clutching Gungnir tightly because it was the only thing to hold on to right now while he fell back down towards the Bifröst – and past it, down towards the void.

 

It felt like his arm was going to rip from its socket when someone else suddenly gripped Gungnir, stopping his fall abruptly. He gasped for air when he suddenly felt like he was able to breathe again, then he looked up at the bridge.

 

Thor was dangling from the ledge, Odin's hand clutching around his boot, shattered pieces of the bridge and the Observatory floating around them and sinking towards the abyss beneath.

 

Loki stared at his father, trying to find some sign of understanding in his eyes, of approval for what he had done, had _tried_ to do, but all he spotted was disappointment and regret. As always.

 

“I could have done it, Father!” he yelled, nearly hysterically, Odin had to _understand_ , Loki hadn't done anything wrong. He had been about to end what the All-Father hadn't, he should be _grateful_. “I could have done it! For you! For _all of us_!”

 

If anything, the sorrow in Odin's eye grew deeper as he shook his head minutely and quietly said: “No, Loki.”

 

The mage's vision went blurry and he tried to blink his tears away when he realised that no, they weren't going to understand. They couldn't. No matter what he did, he was never going to make them understand.

 

Suddenly, there was a glimpse of blue and Loki blinked rapidly, glancing up at Anthony, who stared back in something that looked like horror, eyes wide and his face unhealthily pale as he wheezed for air. The blue tunic looked like he had pulled it on in a haste and Loki would almost have smiled bitterly. Anthony had used to wear his colours. It seemed like he had truly managed to fall from _everyone's_ good graces.

 

“Loki, no,” Thor said warningly. Apparently, he had seen something shattering in his brother's eyes. Loki looked from him to Odin, then to Anthony and then at Thor, seeing the silent plea in his brother's eyes.

 

A shift went through them when Odin unexpectedly moved backwards to pull Thor back onto the remnants of the Bifröst. A bout of panic flared up in Loki's chest – he couldn't go back there. Not if they weren't able to understand what he had done, not if they couldn't ever learn to appreciate his methods – he could have been successful, he could have relieved them from the Jotun plague once and for all if not for their interference – not if he was going to be judged for wanting only the best for Asgard.

 

 _For_ Anthony _and Asgard,_ he corrected himself. _He was the first motivation of what you did, remember? And now he despises you just as much as they do._

 

With those thoughts in mind, it was surprisingly easy to let go of the spear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now you might have noticed that this isn't everything it said on the label. You're right. This is 13 pages so far and if I had wanted to write it in one go, it would probably have taken another week and I'm already so damn late... so this'll have two chapters. Three at most but that's unlikely.


End file.
